#last week was nuts but i feel like i have a grasp on things now

[naffeclipse]

I don't think I'll be able to get a chapter out this week for O' Medusa but I'm working away on it, so for now, have this snippet:

[theanimeroom]

Tbh I think that Barou, who literally forces himself to train every day with both a conditioning drill and a technique drill (multiple I think? Idk) would be able to last the month if you tried teasing him

BUT BAROU LOSING WITHOUT ANY (intentional) TEASING BC HIS ASS IS JUST SO WHIPPED???? Idk actually. Thoughts?

HMMMMM SO MANY THOUGHTS HOLD ON

NFSW UNDER THE CUT | MINORS DNI

DECEMBER 1ST, 2023 - 3:17PM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

if there's one thing about barou shouei, it's that this man's self-control is impeccable. he was a man of great mental and physical strength, and if there was one thing that he would never let himself do, it's lose. it didn't matter what situation was at hand, he was going to come out on top, no matter what.

getting through the challenge was rather easy for the man, mostly because you were a copy and paste of him. that was his favorite thing about you, knowing that you seemingly shared the shame brain and therefore had many of the same thought processes.

the moment you found out that barou had been roped into no nut november, you knew that you would be participating also. the two of you were a package deal, so if he was going to suffer through the month, then you would be good and restrain yourself.

now, you weren't exactly like your boyfriend, so when the tension started to build up in you, it was a bit harder for you to manage. he distracted himself with strenuous workouts and soccer games, but the more he did that, the harder it was for you to control yourself. his body looked like it was sculpted to match that of a greek god, shining in the sunlight as he sprinted shirtless across the soccer fields. how were you supposed to survive that?

despite all of this, you still didn't dare bother your boyfriend, knowing that regardless of whether he won or lost, if you tried to sabotage him there would be dire repercussions because of it.

by the time the last week of november had come around, you had decided to push your limits a bit.

you were sitting in the passenger seat, arms crossed over your chest as your leg tapped against the floor of the car. your body was nearly buzzing at this point from want, your delicious boyfriend sitting next to you with his hand on your thigh not helping your mindset in the slightest. barou was managing just fine, at least that's how it appeared compared to you.

his eyes remained on the road, one hand grasping the steering wheel while the other was rubbing shapes into your thigh. his thumb was moving dangerously close to the inside of your thigh, the muscle tightening as you tried not to react. when barou still didn't seem to notice, you started to wiggle in your seat in hopes that his hand would slide closer to where you were now aching for him.

your gaze flitted to the side, staring at your boyfriend who was gnawing lightly on the skin of his lower lip, thumb still tracing circular motions on your upper thigh. he didn't look distressed at all, more so eerily calm as your not-so-subtle movements started to catch up to you.

your clothing had been a nuisance to you more than anything else since the knot in your stomach started to make itself known to you, but at the moment, it was giving you a great deal of help. the fabric of your shorts had hit you in the right spot, brushing your sensitive clit in the most delicious way. the moment a heavy sigh slipped past your lips, you could feel the heat coming from the man beside you.

peering back over at him you noticed the way he seemed to be a bit more tense, jaw locked and fingers turning white against the steering wheel. he didn't dare turn his head though, only huffing out a breath as he continued to watch the road ahead of you.

he was aware of what you were doing, but he wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of reacting to it. he could easily admit that you held out much longer than he thought you would have, but that doesn't mean that it gives you a free pass to be a brat. he was going to let you do what you wanted, not caring whether you were leaking and creaming in the seat of his car or not. he was going to win the challenge either way, with or without you.

but you just looked so fucking good grinding down in the seat, it had it almost seething when he felt a tent rising in the confines of his jeans. to say he was pissed off was a severe understatement, he'd been doing so well, yet you just had to come around and push his buttons. it was only when your sly fingers wrapped around his wrist, attempting to guide his fingers down to where you were soaking through your underwear that he decided to pull the plug on your little game. unluckily for you, a red light had impeded barou's ability to concentrate, the momentary pause in movement was just enough for the man to turn his head around, snatching his hand from your dirty grasp.

a gasp escaped you when his fingers and thumb pressed roughly into your cheeks, squeezing them together as he forced you to look him in the eye. your gaze was wide as he stared you down, dangerous and filled with something akin to primal lust.

"are you done?" his voice started to hit baritone levels, a curt nod leaving the now angry man humming quietly. the interaction only made you crave him more, your gaze flickering between his eyes and lips in hopes of him giving you what you needed. instead, you whined quietly when barou's fingers loosened their grip, thumb coming around to press at your bottom lip. you didn't think twice before wrapping your lips around the digit, moaning softly when the pad pressed heavily against your tongue. your eyes fluttered closed for a second, but the moment was short-lived as the man focused your attention once more. "good. now, you're going to sit there, and you're not going to move a muscle until we get back home, is that understood?"

when you nodded your head again, he watched you for another few seconds before deciding that you'd understood him well enough, finally letting you go just as the light turned green again.

now, what you did forget, was the fact that once you cross barou shouei, there will be consequences.

"i'm sorry! fuck i'm so sorry!" your voice was raw and cracking under the pressure of your boyfriend, who was using you like a rag doll. your face was pressed into the sheets barely able to breathe as barou shoved you back down, this being the third time you've spoken out of turn since you started.

"didn't i tell you to shut. the fuck. up?" he grunted, punctuating his words with deep thrusts. they didn't aid in his request for silence, but he'd rather hear you crying for him than another apology. "weren't sorry when you were trying to whore yourself out in my passenger seat, now were you?"

knowing better than to leave him without an answer at all, you shook your head into the mattress. a rough smack to your ass left you wailing into the covers, ass red and stinging from the constant abuse barou was inflicting upon it. "this what you wanted? wanted me to split you on my cock princess?"

shaking your head once again in confirmation, there was another sickening slap to your ass before his movements pitched up, hips slamming against your backside as your voice came out in tandem. barou held his balance with one foot against the mattress, the knee on the other leg digging into the space beside yours as you held your pretty little ass in the air for him.

the sight was one to behold, lower lips puckering and begging for his cock to fill it, to breed it. peering down at the way you clenched around him, desperate moans being muffled into the bed as his own grunts started to become more audible.

a rather tight squeeze from your cunt and barou was almost doubling over, balls tightening and bottoming out, stilling as he forced himself not to come in you quite yet.

the raven-haired male leaned down, your back and his front colliding with his heavy breath flowing into your ear. you were damn near brain-dead, moaning softly and pushing back against the male as he moved your damp hair away from your face. you whimpered as his breath fanned against the shell of your ear. "hmm, since we did so good this month... why don't we try to do no nut december also?"

all in all, never participate in no nut november with barou.

don't plagiarize, it's not nice <3

© theanimeroom

[saharasawicki]

When they reached the base of the old water tower, Tai watched as Tatum eyed the rickety ladder that led up to the viewing platform. It was a bit too high for her comfort, and she scrunched her nose in determination. She took a running start, jumped, and grasped at the first rung, but found herself laughing as she swung back down. "Wow, I must look ridiculous right now!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed.

Tai chuckled, the sound warm and easy as he stepped closer. “You look like you’re ready to join the circus!” He couldn’t help but appreciate her playful spirit. Without hesitation, he offered his hand. “Here, let me help you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” Tatum said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Trust me, you’re not a bother,” Tai replied, bending slightly and lifting her up with ease. The tension in her shoulders melted away as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just hold on tight!”

With a swift motion, he placed her gently on the first rung. As they climbed together, Tatum's heart raced, a mixture of exhilaration and nerves coursing through her. Each step took her up higher, and once they finally reached the top, the sight took her breath away.

“Wow,” Tatum breathed, looking out at the sprawling view of their small town. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the rooftops and shimmering across the river. She felt a sense of freedom and wonder as she soaked it all in. “This is amazing!”

“Right?” Tai replied, leaning back comfortably on the ledge. He patted the spot next to him, encouraging her to join him. Tatum settled down beside him, the warm evening breeze wrapping around them.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, letting the beauty of the view sink in. It was Tai who broke the calm, his voice quieter now. “I found this place when I needed to get away from my perfect family. Sometimes it feels overwhelming, you know? Like there's this pressure to always be… perfect too.”

“Oh, I get that,” Tatum replied softly, her heart aching slightly for him. She could see the shadows of his struggle in his eyes. “But you’re not perfect. You’re just you, and that’s enough.”

He smiled faintly, appreciating her comfort, though he still wasn’t ready to dive deep into that part of his life yet. “So, what about you? What’s your family like?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Tatum’s face lit up, excited to share. “Well, our Friday night family get-togethers are quite the event! We usually try out a new recipe each time, and my brother, Miles, always finds a way to turn it into a competition. Last week, he decided we should make homemade pizza, and it got seriously competitive—flour everywhere! This week my uncle was late, so we just did movies and taco night.”

Tai laughed, imagining the chaos. “Sounds like you have a blast.”

“It really is! My mom is a phenomenal cook, and my dad’s hilarious when he plays the sous chef, trying to help but usually messing things up. It’s like a scene from a sitcom! He's a doctor too, so you think he'd have better hand eye coordination.” Tatum smiled as she continued, “After dinner, we usually play board games or watch old movies. It's really nice.”

“That sounds awesome,” Tai said, his expression warm as he listened. “Family sounds important to you.”

“It is,” Tatum agreed thoughtfully. “They drive me nuts sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. So what about you? It must be tough being in a perfect family with perfect expectations.”

Tai glanced out at the view, the tight knot in his stomach tightening a little more. “Yeah, it can be. But let’s save that discussion for another day,” he said lightly, avoiding the depths he wasn’t ready to dive into. “We can focus on the pizza competition instead.”

Tatum smiled brightly, relieved he hadn’t pushed further but still wanting to understand him better. “Deal. Next Friday night, I can give you a front-row seat to the family craziness.”

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they continued to share stories, laughter floating in the air as they forged a deeper connection, one moment at a time. Poses By: @starrysimsie Water Tower Talks

[pccyouthleader]

Hedgehog Hodgepodge: A Story of Espionage, Confusion, and an Evil Plan Gone Haywire

If you haven’t read Part One, here’s a link to the Master Post for all the chapters.

Part Two

Chapter 14: Secret Agent Man

Aurora had been living on her own for two weeks now. Shadow had left soon after her move was complete to go on another mission. After arguing heatedly with his contacts to send someone else, they were able to convince him that he was the only one who could decode the mysterious messages they had received. Shadow had tried to talk Aurora into going back to her parents’ house while he was gone, but she had refused. Wasn’t she supposed to be an adult now?

The problem was that she didn’t feel like an adult. She felt like a scared kid who was in over her head. Sure, living on her own was fun, challenging, and good for her independence, but it was also… BORING. If there was anything the last two weeks had taught her, it was that she needed people around.

In fact, she was overjoyed when Uncle Knuckles asked if she could watch Ruff and Tumble one evening while he and Aunt Rouge had a date night. The twins could be a bit much, but she welcomed the distraction from her loneliness. Aurora laughed to herself as she remembered spending half the night setting her apartment back to rights after Tumble got through with it. She had hoped for more evenings with those rascally boys, but they had recently left to go on a family vacation with Knuckles and Rouge.

The rest of her evenings had been spent reorganizing her closet multiple times, cleaning the apartment top to bottom, painting her nails a different color each night, flipping absently through the channels on her TV, and memorizing her joke book. All this time to herself in the evenings was driving her nuts. “Taco” ‘bout blah!

The thought had crossed her mind once or twice to call Felix. His number was still in her shoulder bag, but she got a weird feeling every time she remembered how quick the serval was to brush off the fact that she had a boyfriend, so she shoved that idea to the back if her mind.

She was considering getting another part-time job when a frantic knocking rattled her front door. Looking through the peephole, she was overjoyed to see that Shadow had returned!

“Shadow!” she cried, throwing open the door. “I’ve missed y-”

“We have to go,” Shadow interrupted her. He grasped her hand and pulled her through the door. 

“Okay, just let me get my bag and-”

“There’s no time. We have to go now,” His voice was urgent and he tightened his grip on her hand. 

As they made their way down the breezeway toward the door to his apartment, Aurora wondered what could be so pressing. Did Shadow finally get around to buying more furniture and want to show it off? Had he planned an exciting date night? That possibility made Aurora weak in the knees.

They had reached Shadow’s apartment by now, and he made quick work of unlocking the door. But instead of walking in to a candlelit dinner, she walked in to a complete mess. 

“Shadow, what’s going on?” she asked, becoming alarmed. Papers and small electronic devices were strewn on the sofa she had finally convinced him to buy. Soft and hard cases of differing sizes covered the mattress. There was a wall safe she had never seen before standing open, and a bright green Chaos emerald glittered inside.

“You’re in danger. We have to leave the village,” came Shadow’s short response.

Aurora blinked. “I can’t leave! I have my job and my apartment - and did you forget that my parents are having another baby?!”

Shadow stopped scrambling through stuff and looked at her. “Like I said, you are in grave danger. We have no choice.”

Aurora’s head reeled as she tried to understand this sudden change in her normal (albeit mundanely routine) life. Being with Shadow was thrilling, but things had taken a strange turn.

Shadow flung open several of the cases on his bed to reveal weapons of all sizes. He finally chose a small handgun holstered onto some kind of strap. 

“This is not happening,” Aurora mumbled aloud. “I am asleep in my bed having the craziest  dream about my boyfriend and his hidden arsenal. Are you sure? Well, maybe if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up. Nah that only works in the movies.”

“Do you always have conversations with yourself?” Shadow asked right in her ear. 

“Ahh!” Aurora jumped in surprise.

He placed his hands gently on her shoulders.

“Trust me,” he said quietly. The look in his eyes was so earnest, so loving, that she nearly melted. She nodded in response and he took her hand to lead her back outside his apartment.

“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.

“I’m taking you to your parents’ while I finish up here. They already know we’re leaving.”

Fat chance! Aurora thought to herself. Her dad would never let her go out of town alone with Shadow. I’ll bet this is some sort of elaborate ruse to surprise me somehow. At least I hope…

Shadow kicked on his air shoes, gathered her in his arms, and rocketed off in the direction of Sonic and Amy’s house.

[highhhfiveee]

good morning!!

hello all (: i’m so sorry for not making my nightly “zZzZzZz” post last night, i literally passed out watching spider-man 2 (2004) [i’d never seen any of the sam raimi spider-mans so my roommate and i have been watching them and they are so interesting sksksks like they’re REALLY rom-coms above everything else 😭 and james franco 🫦 but only physically lmao he sucks]

i’m here now though! i’m at work butttt i just wanted to say that i’m so grateful for all of your support, love, and feedback on my works! it means so much to me to hear how the works are making you all feel, and that you’re loving the depth of the worlds and everything 😭 i know they’re not perfect, but…

not to get too deep and sentimental, for about 2-3 years (especially during covid), i thought i’d never write again. i was in such a deep depression, and my support system had convinced me that my passion had fizzled even though i knew it hadn’t. i couldn’t write, i couldn’t read; it felt like everything i’d loved all my life had slipped through my fingers like sand, and that i’d never be able to grasp it again.

this tumblr has been a part of me grabbing my passion again. i was in school for creative writing because words and telling stories are where i feel most comfortable with myself and my expression. dropping out was a tough decision for a lot of reasons, but seeing this blog blossom beyond anything i could’ve imagined reaffirmed me that everything works out when you choose yourself, your happiness, your dreams!

you all are apart of changing my life, and ironically, i don’t think i’ll ever be able to find the words to express my gratitude. my lore has been altered, and this is something that will impact me forever, so thank you thank you thank you to every single person who’s read, liked, reblogged, commented, sent me a message, asked to be on my taglist, everything!! thank you for everything, i am SO grateful.

i wasn’t expecting the new brothersbestfriend!mike fic to pop off as much as it did tbh 😭 so i’m starting to draft the sequel to mimosa! if i go through with my idea, it’s going to be fucking nuts sksksksk (as are most things i write/think) so please prepare…it’ll be a time, for sure.

also working on the adventures of reader and everyone’s favorite pornstar <3 this next one is gonna be so fucking cute, i’m excited <<<<<:

got some other things in the works too, but nothing i’m saying anything about. you’ll just have to wait and seeeeeee 🤭

okay, okay. very long message from me. i love talking, and i (obviously) love words, but i also love you guys 💜 maybe no post today or this weekend, but i’ll be around of course and i will be writing! next week will be exciting times 🥳

hope everyone is having the best day/night! talk with all of you beautiful seedlings soon 💜 (also, thank you for 900 followers wtf 😭 i have to do something special for 1000 so please send me any suggestions!)

[localartnerd]

Kota was shoving his uniform in his bag, covered in sweat and in pain from wearing the binder during practice– God he really needed to stop doing that, it only put him in more pain. As he shoved the last of his things in his bag, he heard Kuroo’s voice pipe up from beside him.

“Kota! I’m going to Kenma’s after this, you coming?” the ravenet asked the younger teen. Kota shook his head.

“Can’t.. My dad came back from his business trip and he knows absolutely nothing of what I’ve done.” Kota responded, heaving a sigh from his nose. Kuroo gained a confused look on his face

“What did you do?” He asked, looking at the other, his head slightly tilted. Kota laughed slightly.

“Cut and dyed my hair, joined the boys volleyball team, started using the name Kota at school, the list goes on.” he said, recalling the events on his fingers before dropping his hand to his side, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“And he has no clue?” Kuroo asked, looking at the shorter teen with this distant look in his eyes, like he was trying to grasp onto what Kota was preparing to deal with.

“Not one inkling.” Kota affirmed. Kuroo instantly looked worried.

“.. Will you be alright?” He asked, looking at his teammate with genuine worry– he didn’t want anything bad happening to anyone on the team, and that included Kota. Kota was silent for a moment.

“Worst case scenario, I’m kicked out, and I’ve already preemptively packed for that.” He said, gesturing to his bag over his shoulder.

“And best case scenario?” Kuroo asked, adjusting his own back over his shoulder.

“I’m grounded for a couple weeks, my phone gets taken, and I’m forced to do bible study.” Kota explained with a shrug.

“Religious nut?” Kuroo jokes

“Oh yeah. Big time.” Kota laughed, looking at his phone and seeing a message from his mother telling him to call her. “I should get going, my mom is already pestering me, I’ll see you guys later!” Kota said, waving to both Kuroo and the rest of the team who was still there, Kenma included. Kenma looked up from his game, gave a small wave back, before returning his attention to his game. Kuroo nodded, waving Kota off, before going to do the rest of the cleaning up in the gym. Kota pulled out his phone as he walked out of the gym, dialing his mother’s number and putting the phone to his ear, the nauseous feeling growing even more the longer it rang.

“Hey honey, are you on your way?” His mother’s voice rang out through the receiver. Kota hummed in the affirmative.

“Yeah, it’ll be like, five minutes.” Kota responded, looking around the evening scenery.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” She asked him, Kota hummed again.

“I’ll be fine mom, I’ll see you soon.” He answered.

“Alright. I love you, Akari.” Ouch. That hurt a lot.

“...Love you too, Mom.” and with that, Kota hung up the phone, dropping his arm back down to his side. A heavy sigh escaped from his lips as he trudged his way back to what was supposed to be his home– a safe place, but it hasn’t been that for a long time– just a place he goes back to. Kota knew his father was already waiting for him at the house, there was no telling what kind of lecture he was about to endure either. How lovely… which also meant his older sisters were there too… great, a fucking audience.

Soon, Kota got to the driveway of his home.

Then the walk-way.

Then to the front door. Anxiety coursed through his veins, he wasn’t ready for either outcome. He was finally happy for once, why did it have to be ripped away from him?! Why did he have to come back and ruin it all? Kota was finally happy with his life– and now it’s all going to shit.

Kota walked through the front door, calling out his presence. “I’m home!” He called out, shutting the door behind him. He spotted his sister, Sika, in the living room.

“Oh, Akari! Dad’s home!” Sika announced, Kota nodded,

“Mom told me earlier,” he spoke. “Where is he?” Kota’s mother appeared from the kitchen, dusting her hands on an already flour-covered apron.

“He’s unpacking right now, he wants to speak with you when he’s finished though.” She spoke gently, Kota froze. He.. wanted to speak with him? Oh no, oh no, oh no! That wasn’t ever a good sign!

“He.. he does?” He questioned, to which his mother nodded. “Okay…” He mumbled, before excusing himself to the bathroom, promptly freaking out in a group chat that held Kuroo, Kenma, and Kasumi.

Kota-Bug

What do i do? My dad wants to talk with me! He has no idea what i look like right now! I’m panicking..

Kasumi-Bug

Take deep breaths, Kota. If you need to stay somewhere else tonight after you deal with that, text me, I’ll pick you up.

Kuroo:

We have your back, Kota. Keep us updated and let us know if you need anything.

Kenma is typing…

Kenma:

^^

____

Kota looked in the mirror, setting his phone on the bathroom counter. Kota looked so much different compared to 4 months ago, like a switch was flipped. Kota’s phone buzzed, the screen lighting up.

Message from Kenma

Kota picked up his phone and unlocked it, clicking on the notification.

____

Kenma;

Are you alright?

Kota-Bug:

I haven’t seen my dad yet, but I can't hide in the bathroom all night.

Kenma;

True..

Keep me updated, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe.

Kota-Bug:

I will.

___

Kota knew he shouldn’t be hiding from his father, but what other choice did he have? Be kicked out? Oh well, it’s now, or he sleeps in the bathroom tonight..

Kota walked out of the bathroom, and back into the living room, immediately catching his father’s eye, who was now present with the rest of his family.

“Akari..” His voice seemed so loud compared to how it used to be– or maybe it was just Kota’s imagination. Either way.

“Hi, dad..” Kota greeted, changing the tone of his voice to match how he used to be– a girl. Kota avoided eye-contact with the man, not wanting to show just how much of him had changed– however he was also panicking, he was still wearing the binder! Fuck! Kota sat down on the couch next to his mother.

“Your hair..” His father trailed off, Saki piped up.

“I like the short hair on her, it’s cute, and she rocks the black, don’t you think, dad?” Saki chirped, Kota glanced at his sister, was she trying to make this better, or worse for him?! He wasn’t sure. Kota could swear the shaking of his hands was noticeable to everyone in the room.

“I think she’s just going through a phase, Hachiro.” Kota’s mom said, gesturing to his hair. “I’m sure she’ll grow it back out anyways.” she mentioned, side eyeing him.

She was going to make him grow it out. He knew she was. Kota gripped the phone in his hand and stared at his family. His father hummed.

“I’m sure it is. Because if it’s that whole ‘transgender’ thing again, something will be done about it.” his father stated sternly, crossing his arms. Kota bit the inside of his cheek, he knew he shouldn’t say anything, but he was just so.. So angry and tired of it! Why couldn’t his family just let him be him?!

Was he simply not human because he was a transgender male? Why couldn’t they just let him live?!

“And if it is the transgender thing? What exactly will you do? Force me to be a girl, as if you haven’t been doing that for the last two years?!” Kota spat, glaring up at his father and finally making eye-contact with him.

“Akari Sasaki, watch your tone with me, young lady.” He barked, glaring back at his child.

“Why should I? You’ve never shown me a shred of respect. I’m done being the doormat of this family!” Kota yelled, standing up

“Akari–”

“Mom, don’t.” Saki interrupted, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder.

“If you don’t like it, then leave. If you want to be disrespectful, why should you even live here?” He stated. Kota stared at him.

“Fine. I will.” Kota stated, grabbing his bag and making his way to the front door. His actions caused his mother to panic and try to follow him.

“Akari? What are you doing?” she asked quickly, concern written across her face– or was it fear? Hell if Kota knew.

“Since you guys shove my thoughts and feelings aside, and dad told me to leave if I didn’t like it, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Don’t act so surprised. I’m doing what I was told.” Kota said bluntly, walking out of the house. He was done. It was over. He could be happy, right? He paused and turned around to face his family, who had followed him to the front door, but stopped before actually waking outside.

“If you think in the future I’m going to come back to see you without any genuine apology from you guys, you’re wrong. I’d rather be dead than be forced to be someone I’m not. I hope you guys have a great life.” Kota snarked, turning and walking away, pulling out his phone and dialing Kasumi’s number.

Ring… ring… rin–

“Kota, you alright?” the blonde asked, Kota hummed in the affirmative, the adrenaline finally wearing off and the panic truly setting in.

“It happened.. I got kicked out. Er.. well more like I walked out.” he stuttered out. Hoping his voice didn’t crack.

“How far away are you? I can pick you up– it’s dark outside..” Kasumi spoke, Kota heard background voices on Kasumi’s end of the line.

“It’s fine, I’m not far, I can walk.” He told her “who’s that in the background?”

“Kenma and Kuroo were worried, so they came over. They both knew you’d call me if something happened. I’m serious though, I can come pick you up, you’re not exactly in the best shape mentally right now– for god's sake you just got kicked out, Kota. Let me help.” Kasumi pleaded, genuine sympathy in her tone. Kota was silent for a few moments before he sighed shakily in defeat.

“Fine, I’ll send you my location and stay put.” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear to send the location before putting it back.

“Stay on the phone with me though, just in case. You know some people are weird.” Kasumi said, Kota let out a small laugh, though still panicking.

It was maybe five minutes when a navy blue car swung around the corner and came to a stop beside him, Kota recognized the car instantly as Kasumi’s. He hopped in the backseat and buckled up before promptly bursting into a fit of tears.

“I-I’m sorry! You shou-shouldn’t have to be dragged into this!” He cried, burying his face into his hands. He felt so guilty– he did this himself and here he was– dragging three people into this with him. He shouldn’t have done that! They didn’t deserve this! Why was this hitting him so hard? He had been waiting years for the moment to be out of that house for good– so why was he so upset? He didn’t understand, which only made him more upset.

“Kota, don’t apologize. If we didn’t want to help, we wouldn’t be here right now. This is all on us, we're wanting to help you, dude. Take a deep breath, smell the flowers, blow out the candles, remember?” Kasumi soothed, driving off, “remember, breathe in for four, hold for four, out for 4, repeat.” Kota followed Kasumi’s instructions before calming down.

This was going to be rough on him, wasn’t it?

“Legally, you don’t have to go back, you’re allowed to move out. You can stay with me, or I’m sure Kenma’s parents would love to have you around more.” Kasumi said. Kota sighed.

“I know, I’m just.. I don’t want to force my way in anywhere–”

“You won’t be. I promise you. I’m so fucking proud of you, Kota. you’ve grown so much since we first met, and you’re finally putting yourself first. I’m so proud.” Kasumi praised

“Stop it, I’ll start crying again…” Kota huffed, rubbing his eyes.

“How about this, we get inside, and the four of us just relax?” Kasumi suggested, pulling into her driveway. Kota nodded.

This was going to be a peaceful rest of the night for him, or so he hoped.

Finally a new beginning for Kota Sasaki, as Kota, not as Akari, but as Kota.

[attempted--eloquence]

Hello it’s me tossing out shit in my drafts again. I humbly present you a wacky thiam college campus coffee shop ficlet that i wrote sometime last year solely bc i had feelings about alt milk fees <3

CW: brief alcohol mention

Theo is three customers away from the coffee shop register nibbling on the crumbs of what was a banana nut muffin as he considers dropping a class just so he can eat a fucking lunch, for once. Third time this week that his anthro course hasn’t let out early enough to nab a ham and cheese quiche.

By the time he darted across campus, up two sets of stairs, and weaved in and out of a campus tour group, the order line for Stomping Grounds wound its way around the front counter, past the condiment station, and out the propped-open double doors with Theo at the tail end. His hopes for decent sustenance fled the coffee shop lunch rush in the hands of the ungodly patron that found it appropriate to not only buy the last quiche before Theo even made it inside the shop, but also to eat it grasped between their grubby hands like a fucking sandwich.

Absolute animal behavior.

So he settled. Claimed the dead last spot in the queue, after which no one joined presumably because of the egregious wait. Twiddled his thumbs through the twelve minutes it took for him to near the front of the line. Made himself unpleasant enough that the couple of classmates that spotted him idling didn’t stick around long for small talk. Snagged a banana nut muffin from the pastry case that, really, he tried not to eat until making it to the register.

But here, now, after a few more minutes of shuffling forward, the muffin’s been reduced to a few crumbs on the inside of a wrapper. He’s still hungry. And certain to be late to his four-hour neuro lab.

He really could’ve used that fucking quiche.

There’s only one barista on duty. Some disgruntled guy that Theo vaguely recognizes, usually works the closing shift. His face isn’t as twisted up and sullen then. And he usually offers up free leftover pastries and the gritty remnants of whatever’s in the coffee urns half an hour before closing. He’s real decent about letting Theo keep studying after hours while he counts down the register and cleans up, even though Theo’s certain that probably goes against some shop policy. Always locks the doors and sends him off with a genial “Have a nice night.”

But now, he’s got lunch rush fatigue written all over him. A thin sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead, cheeks flushed from espresso machine steam, eyes wide and frantic like he’s rapidly burning through both the patience and caffeine that have fueled his shift. His customer-service-smile has fully inverted into a permanent frown.

It’s contagious. His un-sunny disposition. Theo has witnessed the last five customers—at least—get all huffy about the slow service or the fact that the Earl Grey is out of stock or the lack of napkins at the condiment counter. And the alternative milk surcharge. Especially that.

Theo gets the discontent. Almost a dollar fee. For a different kind of milk. Sounds like the kinda thing they’d debate in his ethics class and come to the same conclusion as they do with all other hotly-discussed topics: yeah, the world’s kinda fucked up in general.

But he’s pretty sure the barista on shift didn’t single-handedly implement the policy—despite the fact that he’s taking all the heat for it—so Theo won’t be a dick about it. Even if he wants to. Just a little. Tracy said he’s gotta work on dismantling his natural air of hostility.

“Hey. What can I get for you.”

It’s less of a question and more of a dread-filled entreaty to hurry up and place an order while there’s a lull in activity.

“A banana nut muffin, and…a large oat milk latte,” Theo says. And just because the guy looks about ready to shove his hand in the coffee grinder, he tacks on a belated, “Please.”

“Sure. $5.90. Oat milk costs 75¢ extra, just so you know,” he replies, bitter-voiced as he jabs buttons on the POS system.

Disgruntled Barista Guy goes stiff at the blank expression on Theo’s face, takes on the demeanor of a preemptive flinch, like he is waiting for something worse than Theo’s shrug, outstretched hand gripping a $10 bill, and, “Yeah, I know. That’s fine.”

Look at him. All unhostile. Tracy would be proud.

“Okay,” he exhales, something like relief. He readjusts the lacrosse-stick-embroidered baseball cap on his head. “I’ll have that up for you in a second, Theo.”

Theo falters. He stuffs his $4.10 in change into the mostly empty tip cup that has FEED ME scribbled on the outside mostly as an apology for not knowing how the hell this guy knows him. Says, “Thanks.”

He squints at the plastic name tag pinned to his apron. Liam. He almost says it aloud, but the window to attach a name onto the end of his halfhearted display of gratitude has closed by the time he has concluded his internal debate about the merit of establishing rapport with someone who’d probably also rather not engage in humdrum small talk. Liam’s got his back to Theo, hunched over his latte cup. The edges of a tattoo peek out from beneath his shirtsleeve.

Ding ding ding. It’s a reminder.

This Liam, lunch rush grump Liam, isn’t just familiar from closing shifts. But from Scott’s potluck at the beginning of the quarter, which was really just a party that happened to have a meager smattering of appetizers to go along with all the alcohol everyone opted to bring.

Theo showed up after most of the snacks were gone but the drinks were plenty. Remembers his half-coherent rambling about wanting a tattoo. Skull with crown. Hazy memories of Liam drawing a sketch of it on his bicep with a silver sharpie. Stiles having to talk Theo out of booking an appointment right then and there and using Liam’s drawing as a reference photo. Right. That night—or, the awful morning after—is the reason he swore off strawberry lemonade Svedka for good.

He’s pretty sure it’s also the source of the one unrecognizable number in his text history. The only message from it was “dont wrory I googled it dude sharpies are nontoxic ook” that probably went unanswered by Theo because he passed out beside the toilet in his bathroom the moment he got back to his apartment.

Huh.

Liam places his drink on the counter with a grin that’s less customer-service-y and more friendly. Says, “See you around.”

Theo retrieves the latte, double-takes. There’s a hasty scrawl of near-illegible words trailing around the circumference of the cup. A ballpoint pen ramble that covers the cup’s surface from top to bottom.

Most of the baristas here draw little doodles on the cups. A smiley face or cartoony mug of coffee with squiggly lines to represent steam. Maybe a “have a nice day!” if they’re feeling particularly chipper.

Not Liam.

Listen, I find the convention of upcharging customers for alternative milks ridiculous and unreasonable considering the vendor prices for these milks are only marginally higher than that of dairy milk so really, non-dairy drinkers are getting scammed for their shitty digestive systems or dietary preferences.

Theo reaches the bottom of the cup. And yet, not the end of the rant, which continues on the drink sleeve Liam had slid across the counter with his order.

Personally, I prefer to upcharge based on how much of an asshole a particular customer is when they order. It’s a much fairer system than capitalism, I think.

There’s an arrow pointing to the other side of the cup sleeve. Theo glances up at Liam, who's got his hands buried in soapy water, washing a sink full of dishes. Real casual like he didn’t just spew his pent-up dairy product industry frustration on an innocent bystander. Theo would be lying if he said he didn’t respect the effort. He flips the sleeve over.

P.S. I didn’t charge you extra for oat milk

P.P.S. Thanks for the tip, you get first pick of stale pastries if you’re here at closing later

Something in Theo’s stomach flutters. Could be butterflies. Or maybe it’s his shitty digestive system.

Half of a person’s caffeine intake is eliminated from the body within six hours of consumption—sometimes neuroscience classes provide more practical knowledge than the redundant lessons on the functionality of the human eyeball—which means his awful caffeine dependence will be in full force soon after his lab ends.

Maybe Theo will swing by the closing shift. Just for the free coffee and stale pastries. That’s all.

[gemstone-roses]

Deaf awareness week

I started drafting this post last week for deaf awareness week in the UK and idk thought this might be helpful for any writers or just anyone in general really.

(please note I got most of this information from things I already knew growing up and as such will reflect what I've personally experienced, plus some information I found on the Internet).

If anyone of the deaf community wishes to add onto this feel free to comment any more, as said above this is just a collection of what I know /have learned.

(if anything is incorrect please do correct me I am by no means an expert and am always open to learning more)

Why a deaf person should teach sign

So a hearing person cannot fully comprehend and understand sign language fully. Deaf peoples language is sign language, and information about deaf culture should only be taught by a deaf person. A deaf person will have a much better grasp of the language and is therefore a better person to learn from.

(I'm in no way saying you should not learn sign language, and as I don't communicate solely in sign someone who does and has more experience in the deaf community can explain this better)

Stop using sign language for clout

There's a few tiktok accounts out there, which I will not name here, who sign the background music or their voices, and they do it wrong, - people mess up, it's okay, I mess up my signs quite a bit even now, but when it's repeatedly pointed out that you are indeed signing incorrectly and CONTINUE to do so. It's offensive, your not making your videos more accessible, take the time to learn properly or don't do it.

There is a diference between Deaf and deaf

Deaf (capital D) normally is used to describe someone who identifies as culturally Deaf and is often born Deaf, often sign language is their first language

deaf (lowercase d) usually is used to describe someone who has the physical condition of hearing loss.

Not all Deaf/deaf people communicate with sign language.

Having a Deaf accent is a thing, I have one, so do many others.

Offensive terms /questions/things

Hearing impairment: a lot of people in the community find this term offensive due to the word impairment. Personally I have used this term to describe myself before in the past however its widely known its an unacceptable term to describe someone else.

"Oh your deaf? So can you hear me if I do this" *person proceeds to cover their mouth and speak

Don't do this, it's not funny, your not funny, fuck off.

Will you teach me how to swear in sign

No, I won't, if the only reason you want to sign is to swear then you need to take a look at yourself.

Are your kids deaf

Okay this one's a bit personal, if a friend would ask me this, they'd get a polite answer however I've had full on strangers stop me in the street and just straight up ask "are they deaf too" and point to my kid, personally, I find this super rude and it annoys the hell out of me.

Me: sorry what did you say?

Them: what?

Me: repeats

Them: what?

NO. This drives me nuts, again, it's not funny, its mocking. It's offensive.

"You don't sound like a deaf person"

And this goes hand in hand with

"BUT YOU CAN TALK" *shocked pikachu face*

Deaf/hard of hearing representation in fanfiction or media.

Cochlear Implants

Cochlear Implants are not a cure.

Ive seen a few stories where a deaf person gets a cochlear implant and is 100% cured and can hear perfectly well. This is not the case. Please do your research. (I am not looking to start a debate about cochlear Implants I'm just pointing out how they are misrepresented in stories).

Magical cures for deafness/ having someone be given a choice to be 'cured'

No, just no.

The "UwU I'm deaf🥺"

Ajaksks ill yeet my phone into oblivion. cringe.

Sign names

Sign names are and should only be given to you by a deaf person.

Stop having characters finish a deaf person's sentence

When writing a deaf or hard of hearing character just make sure you do proper and thorough research. And Yes, it's obvious when you don't.

*Look of pity when character (s) find out character is deaf*

No, don't do this.

As I mentioned a few tiktokers using their platform and sign for clout, here's a list of deaf tiktokers you can check out and support.

(again feel free to add on to this list)

@deafimmy

@cargo-shorts-dad

@dealfamily

@fierceadi

@chrissycanthearyou

@beckyyhelen

@scarlet_may1

@cybernoop

@thatdisabledblackgirl

[connordavidscamera]

A Jealous Household | Connor Brashier

A/n: listen, I know it says y/n, but we all know it’s written about me, right? Okay, just wanna put that out there lol

Summary: Shawn and Brian want to have a party, but this party causes a few problems for Connor and y/n

Warnings: angst, underage drinking (for US standards, at least), pining

Word count: 7.5k, she’s a long one

***

“You want to have a party? When?” Y/n asks, closing her book and setting it in her lap.

“This weekend,” Shawn nods. “And it won’t be a big thing, I promise. Maybe fifteen, twenty people.”

“Thirty or forty, max,” Brian interjects.

I can’t help but laugh at that, neither can she as she says. “You know we can’t even fit thirty or forty people in the condo, right?”

“I know that, but that’s why we’ll have some of them in the backyard too.”

“So what’s the party even for?” She asks, leaning into my side. On instinct, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. 

They both shrug, “A house warming party? Does that still count if we’ve lived here for almost two months?” Shawn questions. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t see why we couldn’t have one. We just have to be considerate of our neighbors. And nobody’s allowed in my room. If there’s alcohol, I’m not chancing anyone going into my room for a sloppy fuck.”

Shawn laughs, “So your sloppy fuck is gonna be in Connor’s room then?”

I roll my eyes at the comment. Shawn and Brian love to tease me about my crush on y/n. They have since the beginning. Shawn’s taunts are light hearted, but they’re plentiful now that we all live together. Brian’s at times feel almost malicious. But Brian also isn’t aware that I still have a crush on her, he thinks the feeling has passed. It definitely hasn’t. If anything, being in such tight quarters with her at all times has made me like her even more. Watching her move so effortlessly around our home - seeing her do her nightly routine, watching her polish her nails every Sunday like clockwork. I have undeniably fallen even deeper in love with her in just these few short weeks we’ve lived together and it’s killing me.

It’s killing me because we still haven’t talked about what she said to me a couple weeks ago when we were falling asleep together. I don’t even know if she remembers saying what she did. And I could have misinterpreted her words, I mean, she was falling asleep, her words were slurring. I could have misunderstood. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself every time the memory pops into my head. Which is about six times a day for the past three weeks.

Y/n gasps and tosses her book at him, "Asshole!"

He laughs, picking the book up off the floor from where it ricocheted off his chest. "I'm kidding. Kidding. But it's cool?"

She shrugs, "Yeah, whatever. Go nuts."

"Yes!" Shawn pumps his fist in the air before high fiving Brian. 

"We gotta get alcohol."

"Ah, wait. Before you two go broke buying drinks for the party, remember that we have bills to pay. So save us all a headache and make it BYOB."

Brian snaps and points at her with a click of his tongue. "This is why we keep you around."

She laughs, "Oh is that why?"

"Indeed," he nods.

"Okay, well can I have my book back, please?"

"Yeah, here," Shawn leans over the coffee table to hand it to her before disappearing to his room, Brian heading to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" I ask, not looking up from my phone. I can sense that the wheels are turning in her head and she sighs dramatically.

"I don't remember which page I was on."

I force myself not to laugh. "243."

“Hmm?” She flips to that page and looks up at my side profile. “How’d you know that?”

I shrug, “I always memorize the page you’re on before you close the book, just in case.”

She smiles sheepishly and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You’re cute,” she whispers before turning her attention back to the page in front of her and resting her head in the crook of my neck.

I squeeze her shoulder hoping she doesn’t look up and notice the growing blush on my cheeks, “You’re cuter.”

---

“Do you have any idea who’s coming to this?” Y/n asks as we move a cooler out to the backyard.

I shake my head, “Not really. I think Matt and his girlfriend, honestly, I have no idea. It’s Shawn, so there’s bound to be more people than we’re anticipating.”

“Lots of girls then.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, setting the cooler down, providing her with my undivided attention (which she has always had). 

“He’s making a name for himself out here. Playing a few more gigs than at home. I noticed at the last one, he’s got a few groupies.”

I chuckle, “Oh really?”

She nods, “There were like five girls there just holding onto his every word. It was actually pretty cool to watch. But he got nervous. Started fidgeting with his necklace, so I had to get him out of there, which of course resulted in death glares from his adoring fans.”

“What? What do you mean? Death glares towards you?”

Y/n laughs, fixing the collar of her shirt that’s falling off her shoulder. “Yeah. I think they thought there was more there than there is,” she shrugs, “And if looks could kill, I would be dead five times over.”

I shake my head, I don’t like that thought, and I say as much. “I don’t like that thought.”

“What? Shawn having groupies?”

“No, girls staring daggers at you because you’re friends with him.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

I know it’s not, but the thought of someone not liking her is appalling to me. “I still don’t like it.”

“Is it because if something happened to me you’d be left to live alone with Shawn and Brian? Because that would make me sad too.”

I force a laugh, “That, and I’d be bored without you.”

She nods understandingly, “I get it. I am the light of your life,” she teases.

You are, I think to myself. “Yeah, yeah,” I say instead, stepping forward, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Let’s get inside, it’s hot as hell out here.”

Shawn and Brian are sitting on the floor in front of the TV, trying to get the wifi hooked up to it. We barely got wifi installed at the beginning of the week, but we’ve all been so busy, we haven’t had the chance to get everything hooked up to it. 

“It’s not working!” Brian complains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Well try again! That’s what the router says.” Shawn counters back.

“Let me see that,” Brian snatches the router out of his hands. “Dumbass! You’re reading me the product number! Not the fucking password!”

Y/n and I hide our faces to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter, but we both break when Shawn pouts when Brian puts the router back in his hands after successfully connecting the TV.

“Oh, what’s with the pouty face, rockstar?” y/n asks.

“Brian’s a dick,” he mutters, which causes Brian to punch his shoulder.

“Ow!” Shawn exclaims, reaching to hold his arm. “That hurt!”

“It was supposed to. Want me to do it again?”

“Craigen,” y/n shakes her head and before I can protest, she’s out of my grasp and I suddenly feel lonely without her body next to mine. “No more fighting.”

“Just one time in the face,” he tries to reason. “Just once. Come on, it’s a long time coming. I’ve wanted to punch him in the face since we were kids.”

“No,” she squats down behind Shawn, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against his. I watch Shawn fall into her touch and I’m envious of him. Even though she holds onto me in the exact same way, almost daily, she isn’t right now and it makes me long for it. Especially when I watch her start to massage his scalp and he hums because her head scratches feel like you’re in heaven. “You can’t punch him in the face. That’s the money maker,” she squishes his cheeks with her free hand and speaks in a mock baby voice, “And if he’s got a black eye how will he charm girls with his pretty face tonight?”

Shawn laughs and pushes her hand away, but he reaches back and pats her calf. “Sit down,” he says and she obliges, her legs spreading and bracketing Shawn’s. He falls back into her and takes her hand that was just squeezing him and brings it to his lips to kiss her knuckles before bringing it to his hair as well. “More head scratches.”

She rolls her eyes, but continues anyway. “So fucking needy.”

He hums, “Could fall asleep like this.”

She hums too and looks up at me with a smile that melts my heart, “Connor does all the time.”

I nod, “I do. Feels good. Your hands are magic.”

“How magic? Like you could get me off in three seconds?”

“Brian!” I growl. Yep, we can always count on him to ruin the mood.

But y/n’s laughing, “I’m sure I could, I mean, if you ask your first girlfriend, you only last five so I don’t think it’ll be difficult,” she answers.

Shawn’s hysterical in y/n’s arms, as am I as I fall to the floor, clutching my stomach. But Brian? Brian is livid.

“I can’t believe she told you that! She said she wouldn’t tell anyone!”

This only makes Shawn and I laugh harder. “Wait, did that actually happen?” I ask between fits. “Craigen, come on,” I groan when he’s silent. “Five seconds?”

“It was our first time!”

“And last, apparently,” y/n comments.

“Shut up!” he groans. “Fuck, I can’t stand you.”

She nods, “I know.”

“No, but seriously, when did she tell you that?”

Y/n breaks out into a wide grin. “She didn’t. But you just did. Thanks for that.”

He’s speechless. Absolutely speechless. And his face is so red; I don’t know if it’s in anger or embarrassment, but either way, Shawn pipes up. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, my first time I only lasted like twenty seconds.”

“I lasted fifteen,” I confirm, but I immediately regret it when y/n’s face morphs into one of confusion. 

Oh, oh fuck. I never told her that I-

“Wait, you’ve had sex?”

“You didn’t know?” Shawn questions, looking back at her.

She shakes her head, “I guess not.”

I sigh and scratch the back of my head, “Yeah. It was… during that time where we weren’t really talking,” I mumble.

She nods slowly, scoffing, and I can’t quite pin her emotion, but it’s definitely a cross between anger and… is that jealousy? “Ah, good ol’ McKenzie,” she mutters under her breath. She exhales deeply out her nose and focuses her attention back to playing with Shawn’s hair. 

“I would have told-”

“We weren’t talking. I know,” she cuts me off. “And it’s none of my business. It wasn’t then, and it’s not now either.”

“Oh, right. Okay,” I nod once. “New subject.”

---

We’re tiptoeing around each other the rest of the day. Or more so, I’m tiptoeing around her. She somehow is coming off as completely unbothered, but at the same time completely bothered. I don’t know what to make of this situation. I don’t know if I should apologize for not telling her, or if she even wants me to apologize. I don’t know and it’s killing me not knowing what I can do to make this better for us tonight.

I’m helping Brian pour more ice into the cooler we have in the kitchen when she walks out of her room. “Where’s Shawn?” she asks.

I look up at her and my heart stops for a moment. She’s wearing red, my heart never knows what to do when she wears that color. Does it stop? Does it speed up? Yes. 

“He went to his car to get the beer we got this afternoon,” Brian answers, closing the lid. 

SHe nods, “I’ll go help him.”

I watch as she leaves, not taking a full breath until the door shuts behind her. 

“She still mad at you?” 

I shake my head, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if she is mad at me.”

“Well, it’s y/n. You kept something from her for almost three years. I’m willing to bet she’s a little upset.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I know. But I mean, how was I supposed to tell her. She would barely even look at me during that time, so -”

“Yeah, because McKenzie was a bitch to her. How was she supposed to look at you when she was practically threatened or called out or god know what when you weren’t listening. I’d hate to know what she actually said when none of us were there to listen.”

I exhale deeply. I know my ex was the worst to her - she’s the entire reason y/n and I weren’t talking. She told me not to hang out with her as much, so I didn’t (also because I was trying to prove to Brian that I didn’t have feelings for y/n anymore. That was a mistake.) “So, I should apologize.”

Brian shrugs, “We all know you’re gonna apologize. You can’t stand it when she’s mad at you. Honestly, we can’t either. We have no idea what to do when you two aren’t talking. And since we all live together now, it’ll be even more awkward for you two to not talk.”

I nod, “Yeah. I know. I’ll apologize later. You should go get ready. I can finish up out here.”

Brian claps my shoulder, “Thanks, man. I’ll be quick.” He disappears at the same time Shawn and y/n walk in the front door with the drinks. I make my way over to them.

“Here, let me get that for you,” I tell her, reaching to take the cases from her hands.

“Oh, it’s okay. I got it. You want these inside or out, rockstar?”

“In the fridge, in the back. Gotta keep the good stuff for us.” Shawn hands me a pottle of vodka, “Put this in the freezer? I got it for y/n, I’m gonna make her a new drink.”

“You’re gonna risk giving her alcohol poisoning?” I question, raising one eyebrow at him.

He rolls his eyes, “I’ve gotten better at making drinks, dickhead.”

I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender, “Alright, sure.”

“I’m gonna put these in my room for now, and then I’m gonna get ready.”

“Brian’s in the shower, you can use my bathroom,” I say as y/n moves past us to the kitchen. 

“Good looking out, thanks.”

And now it’s just me and her. It’s like any normal day. So why is my heart beating so quickly?

I watch her move some things around in the fridge to make room for the drinks, and I can’t help but smile. “You look pretty tonight,” I tell her, leaning against the counter.

She looks over at me and smiles softly, “Thanks.”

I clear my throat, “Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” she turns her attention back to her task at hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, closing the fridge.

“For not telling you that I slept with her.”

“Oh,” she nods. “It’s fine. It really is not any of my business who you have and haven’t slept with.”

“Well maybe not, but you are my best friend, and we tell each other everything. I know if we were on better terms when you were dating Noah, you would have told me that you-”

“I didn’t tell you because we didn’t sleep together.”

“What?” I stare at her with wide eyes. 

“Noah and I didn’t sleep together.”

“But I thought-”

“You assumed. But no, it didn’t happen. I wasn’t ready. I mean, I barely let him kiss me, so how the hell was I gonna sleep with him?”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do or even say. She’s right, I just assumed that they had sex because he always had his hands all over her. I almost scoff at the thought. I hated watching him hold her in the hallway, his hands in her back pockets as he pulled her closer to him. Seeing them together everyday made my heart clench every time because it should have been me. I wonder if that’s how she felt when I had a girlfriend. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? So, let’s just drop it. It’s not like I’m mad you had sex, I was just surprised to find out this way, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get it. And I would have told you sooner, but there really was never a time, you know? And it was just with her a couple times, nothing since.”

“Connor, you really don’t need to explain it to me. Actually, if we could just stop talking about her all together, that’d be great.”

“No, yeah. Of course. It’s dropped.”

She nods, “Okay, good. So, you should go get dressed.”

“What do you mean? I’m wearing this,”  I gesture to my torn t-shirt and my sweatpants with paint stains up and down the legs from when we painted the living room a few weeks ago. I’m totally joking, but I want to see her reaction anyway.

She looks me up and down and scoffs, “Yeah, no. Go change. You’re not wearing that.”

I pout dramatically, “Why not?”

“One, those pants are a mess. Two, you know you run hot when you drink, so why would you wear sweatpants? And three, that shirt is literally falling apart. You are not wearing that, go change.”

I can’t fight the smile that tugs at my lips because just like that we’re back to normal. “Okay, I’m going. Do you have something you’d like for me to wear?”

“Yes, your black pants with the white tank top and your peachy cream shirt. The one you wore for our graduation party.”

I nod, “Yes, ma’am. You wanna do my hair?”

“Come find me when you’re done, and I’ll see what I can do.”

---

I’m talking to my friend Will out in the backyard as the party becomes bigger than anticipated. Yeah, definitely called that situation. 

“Bro, I wish I would have saved up more so I could have gotten a place like you guys did. I emailed my roommate last week to see what he wanted to get for the dorm and he straight up said, ‘I don’t plan to be roommates long, so nothing.’”

I can’t help but laugh, “Hey, we’d take you in over Brian, but he’d throw a bitch fit.”

He laughs too, twisting the cap off his beer. “So what’s it like living with y/n? Everything good?”

“Yeah, everything’s great. She knows how to run a household. She made a chore chart that goes on the fridge. Shawn had to beg her to take it down for the party because he was embarrassed.”

“Sounds like y/n. But that’s not what I meant.”

I take a swig of my beer and shrug, “There’s nothing else to say really. She’s nice to live with.”

“No progression between you two.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, right. Because you’re not in love with her, right.”

“Will, come on. Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. We’re not in a teasing mood tonight.”

Or ever. Will is a great friend of mine, and I would take a bullet for him, but he asks me for y/n updates every time we’re together, and I never have any for him. When I told him we were moving in together, he was stoked, but less so when I told him we were moving with Shawn and Brian too. 

He - like Shawn - is an avid supporter of us getting together. Will found out about my so-called crush one night in high school, actually a couple weeks after my breakup with McKenzie. Y/n and I still weren’t talking. I was trying to mend things and  she was trying to push me further away. I don’t remember much of the night he found out because I got shit faced drunk, but I somehow admitted to him that I had feelings for her and he’s convinced himself that he knows the biggest secret in the world. He treats it like he holds the key to the universe. If anyone wants us together more than I do, it’s him.

“Just don’t want to risk her hearing anything,” I tell him. “I already made things awkward earlier.”

“What? How?”

I shake my head, “Let it slip that Kenz and I slept together.”

He blanches. “She didn’t know?!”

I shake my head, “No. I never found the right time to tell her. But she keeps saying it isn’t her business, so I don’t know if that means she’s hurt by it or if I’m imagining it because right now it seems like she doesn’t really care. But - I don’t know, I want her to, I guess.” 

He smirks, “She cares.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, looking inside, lifting my bottle up to my lips, but halting when I see her standing near the sliding glass door with - “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Will asks, turning toward the door. “What hap - is that? Wait, is that Noah? What is he doing here?”

My jaw clenches, just like the grip around the bottle in my hand. “Better question, why the hell is he so close to her?”

Will sucks in a breath, “Are they still friends?”

I don’t answer him because I don’t know. I’m 99% sure they aren’t, but that 1% that says yes is simply because I’m watching them right now and she’s hugging him and letting him kiss her cheek before he pulls away. “I didn’t think they were. She hasn’t brought him up since the breakup.”

I don’t take my eyes off them as I start chugging the rest of my beer. It was still pretty full, but at this moment, I need to finish it because I need something stronger. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I mutter, tossing my bottle in the trashcan near the cooler. I walk inside, but neither of them notice me. I shake my head and walk to Shawn’s room where he hid most of the hard stuff. I find the bottle of tequila that he stashed because he knew if he put it out, it’d go fast. I twist the top off and take, maybe a little more than a shot. I cough into my elbow when I pull the bottle back because wow he got the strong stuff.

Shaking my head, I close the bottle back up and sneak out of Shawn’s room. When I enter the living room, they’re still standing there talking. Or, he’s talking, she’s nodding at something he’s saying. I click my tongue and walk into the kitchen to grab another beer. SHould I be mixing my alcohol? No, I should not. Is that going to stop me? No, it is not. 

My girl’s ex-boyfriend is over there talking to her and touching her like they’re best buds and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand him. 

I still remember the day she told us that she was going on a date with him. 

All four of us are sitting in our usual booth at the diner, everything seems to be going like it always has. Just us four, laughing and making our weekend plans. The difference though is that y/n and I aren’t sitting shoulder to shoulder right now. She’s pushed against the window, and I’m toward about as far left as I can get without it being noticeable, or falling. 

“So, we’re aiming for Saturday afternoon, right? Y/n, you’ll ride with me?” Shawn asks.

“Oh,” she sits up straight, “um, could we maybe do it on Sunday instead? I kind of already have plans on Saturday.”

“What?” Brian furrows his brows, “Without us?”

She nods, “Yeah,” she takes in a sharp breath beside me. “I um… I kinda, I have a date.”

At that exact moment, our heads whip in her direction - I’m pretty sure if I turned any faster I would have given myself whiplash.

“A date?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“With who?” Shawn questions.

She shrugs, “You know that guy Noah? I have him in like all of my AP classes? He asked me out after class this morning.”

I don’t think I can clench my jaw any harder. Noah. I hate him. I’ve never personally met him, but I hate him. “Cool,” I mutter, turning my head back to the table to reach for my drink. 

“Well?” Shawn prompts. “What are you gonna do? Where is he taking you?”

She clasps her hands in her lap and shrugs again. “I don’t know. He hasn’t told me. Said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Ooh, romantic,” Brian teases.

“You hate surprises,” I mumble into my cup.

Y/n clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s just one date. Not a big deal.”

“Okay, sure,” Brian says. “So Sunday then?”

“And you’ll tell us all about it?”

“Sure.”

There are very few times that I wish I was deaf, but that day was one of them. I didn’t sleep that whole night. I couldn’t. And the night of her date? Forget it. I was up all night wondering what was happening. Did he hold her hand? Did he hug her? Did that bastard take her first kiss? The first kiss that was supposed to belong to me? 

And right now, as I watch him reach for her elbow again, I decide, fuck it. I don’t care if I look like a jealous asshole, I’m taking my girl away from him. I stride over to them and place my hand on her hip, “Hey, baby. Can you help me find the bottle opener? I can’t remember what drawer you put it in the other day, and I think my eyes are failing me.”

She shakes her head, “Um, yeah. It should be in the drawer closest  to the fridge.”

“I checked there, please, come help me look.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Noah who is staring daggers at my hand on her hip. I smirk. “Noah, it was good catching up with you. I’ll find you later. I’m gonna help him out.”

He looks back up at her and forces a smile, “Sure. Sounds good. Save me dance?”

Over my dead body. “Come on, baby,” I say, guiding her toward the kitchen.

She steps in front of me, mumbling a couple excuse me’s to the people blocking the kitchen. Then she b-line’s to the drawer closer to the fridge, which I definitely did not check because I wasn’t really looking for the bottle opener. I just needed an excuse to get her away from Noah.

“Here,” she holds it out to me. “Wait, I thought Shawn got twist tops.” She takes the bottle from my hand and laughs, “Bub, it twists off.” She says, taking the cap off the bottle. 

“Oh,” I chuckle. I knew it was a twist top, again, I just needed an excuse to get her away. “Whoopsies?” 

She puts the bottle opener back in the drawer and leans against the counter. “You having fun?”

I shrug, “I’m alright. So um… Noah’s here.”

Y/n nods slowly, “Yeah, he is.”

“Kinda weird that he showed up after we just talked about him,” I mutter.

“Yeah, I guess. He just tagged along with one of his friends.”

I nod, “Mhm. You two looked pretty cozy.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing. Just, I mean, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the breakup,” I take a sip of the beer in my hand. “I didn’t realize you two were still so close.”

She tilts her head at me, “We’re not. We were just catching up. He didn’t know that I lived here too.”

“Uh-huh, so you haven’t talked to him recently?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s with the third degree, huh?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I mutter.

“No, Connor. I haven’t talked to him recently. In fact, I haven’t talked to him since the breakup. But what does that matter? Why does it matter who I do and do not talk to?”

“I just think it’s a little strange that he came here tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t invite him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. He came with a friend. He didn’t even know it was our party, or our house. He just showed up.”

“So he crashed it. Classy.”

“What is your deal?” She pushes herself off the counter and stands face to face with me, her forehead creasing as she glares at me. I want to smooth the crease and tell her not to do that because she’ll get a headache, but I refrain. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! Newsflash, Connor, you’re not my boyfriend.”

I recoil, because sure I know I’m not, but the words spew from her lips like venom. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because right now it doesn’t seem like you do. Now unless I completely missed the part where you asked me to be your girlfriend, you have no right to be upset over me talking to my ex-boyfriend.”

“He was an ass to you then.”

“How would you know?! We weren’t even talking then.”

“Because you didn’t want to! I was still trying to fix things with us but you were pushing me away.”

“No, I wasn’t pushing you away. I was protecting myself from getting hurt again.”

“But it wasn’t me, that was Kenzie, and -”

She groans in frustration, “Why are we talking about her again? Why? I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Y/n pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, you’re my best friend, and I love you. But you have no right to be upset about Noah. You are not my boyfriend -”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you aren’t! You like to act like you are sometimes, but you’re not.”

“Do you want me to be?!” I exclaim, setting my bottle down.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Not like this,” she says quietly, pushing past me.

“Y/n!” I call after her, but she ignores me. I, however, can’t ignore the eyes that are on me.

---

“He’s jealous?” Alessia asks, leaning back on her hands. We’re sitting on the grass in the backyard. It’s quieter out here, and far less crowded. “Does he even have a right to be?”

“That’s what I’m saying! He’s my best friend, but sometimes he acts like he’s my boyfriend and I just - I’m over it.”

She sighs, “You’re over him acting like your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Because you want him to actually be your boyfriend.”

“What? No! No,” I shake my head, “that’s not it.”

Les smiles, “Honey, it’s obvious the way you two look at each other. And you can deny it because you’re best friends, you live together. You don’t want to risk the integrity of the friendship that you have. And that is totally reasonable, but you two need to discuss what you are to each other. Because it’s clear that in his mind, you’re a little bit more than just ‘best friends.’ And well, you’ve always wanted to be more, so what’s so wrong with him being that?”

I sigh and pick at the grass beside me, “I don’t know if he feels this way genuinely or if it’s because I’m closer now. We live together, it seems almost easy or convenient for him to develop some tiny crush because of the proximity.”

At this she laughs, “Oh, honey. That is definitely not it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that boy has been in love with you since before I even met you guys. It’s written all over his face and if you took a second to just stop and -”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, guys,” Shawn says, breathlessly, pushing his curls out of his face. “Y/n, Connor’s drunk off his ass, and I need your help”

I sit up, “Okay, How much did he drink?”

“Like, the entire bottle of tequila I had in my room, plus however many beers he had.”

I stand up, swatting at the backs of my legs to get off any dirt, “Is he throwing up?”

“No, he’s just asking for you.”

I nod and look back to Alessia, “We’ll talk later, Les?”

“Mhm, go take care of your boy.”

“Why did he drink so much?” I ask Shawn, following him toward the sliding glass door. 

He shrugs, “I asked him. He said you were mad at him.”

I roll my eyes, “Well yeah, he was being an ass. But it still doesn’t make sense.If he drinks every time I get upset with him, he’d be an alcoholic ”

“All I know is that he was asking for you,” Shawn says just as we find Connor sitting outside my bedroom door, nursing another beer bottle. 

I shake my head, “God, he knows not to be switching between alcohol.”

“Connor, buddy?” Shawn says, squatting down next to him. “I got her. Why don’t you give me that beer, eh?” He goes to take it from his hands, but Connor’s quick to move it, spilling a bit of it on his shirt in the process.

“No, this is mine. Get your own,” he slurs

I sigh and squat down next to him, too. “I think you’ve had enough, bub. Come on, let me have it.”

He looks at me with heavy eyes and he pouts, dramatically. “Y/n… you’re so pretty.”

“Connor,” I shake my head. 

“I love you in red. God, you look so good. Could never get,” he hiccups, “tired of looking at you.”

I blush, looking over at Shawn who’s still sitting with us. “Okay, come on. Let’s get up. We need to get you to bed.”

He nods slowly, “Whatever you want, baby.”

I take the drink out of his hand and set on the floor beside us. “Shawn, help me get him up.”

Shawn nods, “You got it.” He does most of the heavy lifting, but when Connor’s on his feet, he leans into me, hugging my waist, burying his head in my neck. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n. So sorry.”

“I know, come on now. We’re going to your room.”

He groans into my skin, but helps me and Shawn take him to his room as best as he can, only stumbling once when we round the corner. We push his bedroom door open and walk further into the room, plopping him down on the bed. 

“Thanks, Shawn. I got it from here.”

“You sure?” 

I nod, moving to grab his trash can from next to his desk. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for coming to get me.”

He nods, “Of course. Come get me if you need anything else.”

Connor groans as Shawn slams the door shut behind him. I sigh and move around the room, turning on his bedside lamp and going to his desk chair where his outfit from earlier is laid out. “Okay, bub, I’m gonna need you to help me out, alright? I need you to get out of your clothes, I’m gonna put you in pajamas, okay?”

He shakes his head, his pout even heavier than usual, eyes struggling to stay open. “Too tired. You do it.”

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Of course he’s gonna be difficult right now. I shake my head, throwing his clothes beside him, “Can you stand up?”

He mumbles something incoherent, but I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere along the lines of “The room is spinning.”

“Fuck, Connor, why did you drink so much?” I grumble, moving to the floor to take his shoes off.

“You’re mad at me,” he whines.

“Yes, I am. You know your limits. What were you gonna do if this didn’t happen at the house, hmm?”

“M’sorry.”

I roll my eyes, “Okay, sit up,” I reach for his hands to help pull him to a sitting position. 

He makes an unnecessary amount of groaning sounds as he moves around to accommodate me.

I push his shirt off his shoulders, it’s almost damp, he’s sweating so much. I throw it to the side, I’ll put it in the laundry room when I go get him some pain meds in a little bit. I take hold of the hem of his tank top, “Arms up,” I pat his side and he obliges, looking up at me with a sad smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, tossing his tank top off to the side too.

“I’m sorry I got mad earlier. About Noah.”

I shake my head, “It’s fine. Lay back, lift your hips for me.”

He lays back, but his pout still remains on his face as I lean forward to unbutton his pants.

“What now?” I question softly, pulling down his zipper, “Hips up.”

He’s looking at me with such sad eyes and it’s killing me. “This isn’t how I wanted you to undress me for the first time.”

My breath hitches, “What?”

“Wanna make love to you,” he slurs. 

I almost choke on his words, “Connor, you’re drunk,” I shake my head, pulling his pants off him and grabbing his sweats to pull up his legs instead. I decide to forgo the shirt because he’s already sweating a lot, I don't want to make him even hotter. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m gonna go get you some water and pain meds. Stay here.” I move the trash can closer to him, “The trash is right next to you if you feel like you’re gonna get sick.

I pick up his discarded clothes from the floor and walk to the door and out the room before he can say anything else he doesn’t mean. After tossing them in the hamper in the laundry room, I squeeze past the group of people still congregating in the hallway. I slip into my room and grab some of my pain meds from my book bag and quickly slip out again to head to the kitchen which is also crowded. I mumble out a general excuse me, and go to the fridge to grab Connor a bottle of water. 

On my way back, I stop and go to his bathroom which is thankfully empty, and grab a hand towel and wet it under the faucet to hopefully cool him down a bit. When I’m back in his room, he’s laying face down on his bed and I stop for a minute, admiring his smooth skin, and the way the muscles in his shoulders tense up when he moves his arm above his head. It’s not fair. No one man should look this good. 

I shake my head, focusing back on the task at hand. I close the door behind me gently. “Okay, Connor. I need you to sit up just one more time to take these pills and then you can go to bed, yeah?”

He groans, “I think I drank too much, baby,” he mumbles, pushing himself up and I'm once again in awe of how his muscles move with him. 

I scratch at my scalp and nod, holding out the pills for him. “Yeah, I think you did, too.” He takes them in his hand and I sit next to him, uncapping the water bottle before handing it to him as well.

“Thank you,” he hiccups.

“You’re welcome.” I look down at my hands as he takes the pills. He goes to hand me the water bottle back but I shake my head, “You need to drink it all. We’re trying to avoid a hangover.”

He just holds the bottle in his lap, not moving to drink anymore of it, so I look back up at him only to find him already staring at me. 

“You okay?” I ask.

He hums and reaches forward. He runs his thumb under my eye, “You got an eyelash. I got it,” he mumbles, but he keeps his hand cradling the side of my face. 

My eyes search his tired ones, they’re glossed over, but they always get that way when he drinks, making his eyes seem just a little more blue than green. 

“Have I told you tonight that you look pretty?” he asks quietly. 

“Multiple times,” I confirm. 

“Good, because you are… so, so pretty.”

I lick my lips and watch his eyes move from my eyes to my lips and back. I take in a shallow breath as he starts to lean closer. His eyes closed as his face inches toward mine. I push him back gently just before his lips have the chance to connect with mine, and I mean just before because I could feel his breath against my mouth. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I was… I was trying to kiss you. Did you, I thought you wanted to - when we were laying in bed a couple weeks ago, you said you wanted me to kiss you.”

“Well, I… Connor,” I shake my head. I didn’t think he heard me when I said that. “Not like this. Not tonight. Not when you’re drunk and not thinking clearly.” I stand up, pacing slowly in front of him. “If you’re gonna kiss me, I want you to be sober, and to actually want to do it. Not just because we got in a fight earlier. I don’t want this to be something you do now and then completely forget about or ignore, or fuck, even worse, regret in the morning. I don’t want that. I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be led on by you again.”

“Again?” He asks, tilting his head at me. 

“Nevermind. I should go back out there, start cleaning up so it’s not so much tomorrow.”

“Wait, y/n, please. Stay here, please. Stay with me tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything, I promise. Please, just stay?”

I sigh, “Just until you fall asleep.”

---

It’s nearing eleven in the morning when Shawn finally retreats from his room. He’s not nearly as hungover as I bet the other boys are going to be. If he’s even hungover at all, he doesn’t seem to be. 

He leans against the counter, watching me pull my second batch of cookies from the oven. “You’re stress baking,” he observes.

I scoff, “I made muffins too,” I nod in the direction of the counter in front of him where a plate of blueberry muffins sits. 

“Ooh,” he reaches forward and takes one, “Not that I like when you’re stressed, but this my favorite of your coping mechanisms.”

“For purely selfish, I presume.”

“Of course,” he says around a mouthful of muffin. “So,” he says after he swallows. “Does this sudden urge to bake have anything to do with what happened last night with Connor?”

I tense up at the memory of Connor leaning in to kiss me. Me pushing him away. “Maybe.”

“So what did happen after I left you two?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head.

“Well, the glorious smell of our kitchen and the spotless living room say otherwise.”

I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face. “He, god, he tried to kiss me.”

“What?” Shawn chokes. 

“Shh! You’ll wake them.”

“Oh please, Brain will be asleep until five. Nothing will wake him. He kissed you?! Well, how was it?”

“I said he tried. As in, I didn’t let him. I pushed him away before he could.”

“Why? Don’t you want him to?”

“Of course! But not like that! Not when he’s drunk and not himself. WHen he’s saying stupid things like he wants to make love to me, and that he wishes I was undressing him for the first time under different circumstances.”

“What? He said all of that?! Oh my god! Go, Connor!”

“No, not go Connor. Because he’s not going to remember any of this when he wakes up and I’m going to remember everything and have to pretend that he didn’t say anything or try to kiss me. And I’m stuck being led on once again, except this time he lives just down the hall and I have to see him everyday.”

Shawn sighs, “Okay, you’re right. So, what are you going to do?”

“Same thing I always do.”

He nods, “I’ll get my guitar.”

***

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[elius-learns-to-write]

Class Drama and Anger Issues

Hey besties this will contain swearing, violence, catcalling/ sexual harassment, blood and just horrible behaviour so please take care reading this, love you all <3

You had always been very protective of your friends

It wasn’t like you didn’t think they could stand up for themselves

You understood that 100%

However whenever anyone insulted them or talked bad about them you were the first person to throw hands

You were sure that your jaw had locked from how long you had been tensing it. You see, being sat at the back of the classroom was great, you could see everyone and hear everyone. Which means that whenever someone decided to bitch and moan about the people in the little group you had managed to join, that you would be the first person to hear it. Like right now for example, Liz and Peter had broken up a few days ago and she didn’t take it so well and had taken up talking about him behind his back. Which had led us to this: you at the back of the room, fists and jaw clenched in an effort to not walk over to her and her little friends and wipe that smug look right off her face. “And he isn’t even that smart, God knows how he got into Stark industries” nope that was it, that was the last straw. You pushed the stupid science lab chair back so hard it fell to the ground, heads turned to you as you stormed over to where Liz and her group where currently at which just happened to be at the front of the classroom. God, were you lucky that the teacher had left to go grab some more textbooks from some cupboard down the hall, otherwise you would have been dead when you said “Listen Liz. Peter is an amazing and smart boy who cares more for others than he does himself. He works harder than anyone else I know and he still manages to make sure others are okay. He is twice the person you will ever be and if you don't shut up in the next 2 minutes you won’t have to worry about being bitter over a breakup, you’ll be too worried about getting a set of new teeth”. If this was a cartoon steam would be pouring from your ears and your face would be blood red, which wasn’t too far from what you looked like now. Peter had taken a sick day and thank god he had, otherwise he would have killed you for even saying anything, however Ned was still here and he was waiting to see how far you would go before having to step in and calm you down. “Oh how sweet L/n, you think you’re all strong and scary” her and her friends' sickly sweet laughs echoed in your ears as you clenched your fists even harder. “Y/n come on Peter wouldn’t want this” ned tried to reason and even in your rage filled stupor you realised he was right and took a breath to try and calm yourself down “say anything again and you’ll see just how strong and scary I can be” you spat, stroming away, grabbing your bag and walking out of the room just in time for your teacher to walk back in, “where’s L/n?” he asked. 

Okay maybe you did tend to overreact 

You just really cared about your friends

They were there when you needed them and you wanted to do the same 

You couldn’t help it that you got angry when people decided to talk about them 

In some situations though it was acceptable to get angry

You, Mj and Betty had been coming back from the Cinema late one night after deciding that you deserved to spend some time together after exam week to treat yourselves. Unfortunately walking through the streets at 10pm meant getting some very unwanted attention from older men. “Hey mama looking good” one man slurred as you walked past him grabbing the girls hands a little tighter in an attempt to ground yourself and reassure them that you would keep them save, “hey don’t be like that, we just want to talk” another man added, honestly what was it with them? Couldn’t they see you obviously didn’t want to “talk” to them. You hadn’t even realised your feet had stopped moving until Betty gently placed her hand on your shoulder and whispered “It’s fine just let it go” and tried to give you a nudge in the direction you had originally been going. “Hey! Don’t just ignore us! We know you want some attention” you didn’t know who had said it and at this point you didn’t care, worrying more about teaching them a thing called respect than about who voiced their unwanted thoughts. Letting go of your friends hands, turning around slowly and walking towards the men with a smile on your face so sweet it was almost scary. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that women aren’t your submissive little toys?” you sung punctuating your sentence with a kick to one guy's nuts and a punch to the other's nose. “Because someone really should” and as the men were recovering from your atack you stalked away along the dimly lit street and continuing your journey to Mj’s house.

Okay so we have clearly established your hatred towards people who disrespect your friends 

The Avengers new about your strong feelings and respected the fire that you had 

Of course they did have Bruce try and teach you some breathing exercises 

Spoiler alert they didn’t help very much 

So when Bucky got a call from your school telling him that he would have to pick you up as you were suspended for a week

He couldn’t say he was surprised

“I’m going to pick Y/n up from school, be back in a bit” Bucky called to the rest of the team who had been watching some sort of reality show on the new Tv Tony had no reason to buy but did, “why? What happened?” Steve replied, a look of concern on his face “They got into a fight and so they are suspended for a week” the supersoldier sighed, grabbing the car keys and whispering “what did you do this time Y/n” to himself.

I’ll tell you what happened

You had been on your way to English when you had seen Flash taunting Mj, waving her book above his head and laughing hysterically about something. Instantly you dropped your bag to the floor and stormed over to them “Hey Flash, what are you doing there buddy?” you shouted loud enough to seem intimidating but not loud enough to capture the attention of the teachers and students who were already in class. “None of your business Y/n, move along” he spat back, if looks could kill he would be six feet under and halfway to hell as you ripped the book from his grasp and slammed him into the lockers “really? Because to me it looks like you’re being rude to my good friend Mj and I don’t take that very lightly”. Gripping him by the collar and pushing him even further into the lockers that he was sure his body had made a dent in the metal, however flash was never one to give up like the shaking leaf of a man he was. Pushing you hands off and shoving you by your shoulders he said “aww look Mj your angry little guard dog has come to your rescue again. How sweet” if there was one thing you hated more than stupid boys and disrespect it was being called a dog. You weren’t gonna let him call you that. Quicker than he could say “Don’t hit me” your fist came flying straight into the boy's noise, a satisfying crunch being made upon impact. Now throughout all of this no one had heard the commotion and they wouldn’t have if Flash didn’t scream out in pain and then faint at the sight of his own blood.

That’s how you ended up getting suspended 

It was what you had told your dad when he picked you up because you had no reason to lie

No matter how proud of you he was he still gave you a talking to 

You both had a long talk about how best to go about controlling your anger and instead of going back to Bruce you decided to take a few anger management classes

And so far it’s going great

(Until flash decides to open his mouth again)

[whosjunglejim4322]

warnings: sleepy sex, switch Jongin, cockwarming sorta? you fall asleep after he nuts in you, theoretically u r on the pill bc I am nasty, (soft?) choking, riding

It's just ten minutes past two a.m when Jongin rolls over with a guttural, sleepy groan, arm snaking its way around your body that's hidden underneath the covers, warm cheek pressing against your shoulder blade.

You're just about to drift off, too, having stayed awake for most of the night due to your boyfriends restless tossing and turning. He's not one to wake up like this, usually down for the count due to the exhaustion that throbs in his bones after a day of constant moving.

But the way he burrows himself further against your figure, supple hands and nimble fingers ever so slightly caressing any bare skin they can reach without being too obvious; your body wakes you up without a choice.

You remain in the same position, however, legs shuffling as to let him know you're not asleep just incase he happens to be clingy in a state of half conciousness. You're still not sure wether or not you're the one being suggestive.

But, this is Jongin, your boyfriend whom you know the insides and outs of at this point in your relationship. His voice is as seraphic as his features, jubilent smile and the crinkles by his warm eyes displaying the likes of someone who is more or less, innocent in nature.

But you know better than anyone just how carnal he can be, how he touches you when the two of you are alone. He allows glimpses of himself to be seen like this whenever he performs, passion running through his veins like hot liquor, eyes lowly lidded. It'll always leave you breathless, awed.

Just the thought has your belly swarming with recurring butterflies. 

But it's another thing completely when it's just you and him, a specific type of unequivocal touch that can only be described as innately Jongin, and it's this knowledge that leads you to believe your boyfriend isn't just craving closeness in a half cognitive state.

His intentions become clear when his ring finger traces the crease of your thigh, teetering against the seam of your underwear as he ascends to your navel. You try not to quiver, and he hums inconspicuously when you roll over, stretching your limbs.

"Why are you up bub?"

He paws at your hip and your thigh brushes the half hard erection that is growing in his shorts. You're too sleepy to be surprised, however you wonder if he can see the glint in your eyes as he lets out a soft, almost inaudible groan from the contact.

You reach out and move some of his tousled hair from in front of his forehead, the tips of your noses touching, his puffy lips brushing past yours while he speaks.

"Was dreaming...had a good dream," you wonder for a moment if he's really awake, with how groggy his low voice sounds. "Can't sleep now."

He's shameless as he pulls your middle flush against him, the heat of his chest warming your forearms as you drop your hand somewhere close to his shoulder, tracing circles along the valley of his collarbones.

"Hmm, you're usually not so eager when you're tired." You feel the corner of his mouth twitch as he halfway smirks, wide palm rubbing your lower back and the top of your thigh as his hips become bolder with their proximity.

"But I miss you, miss being with you," his mouth is plush and sincere as he kisses you, the scent of his skin and the studiness of his body against yours leaving your willpower weak. "M'so busy, dream about making you feel good."

Your fingers gently grasp the ridge of his jaw as his tongue casually slips into your mouth, exploring while you sling your leg over his middle and your centers meet. A shared chorus of satisfied moans slip past your kisses, the comforter that's atop of you both suddenly too hot to be underneath.

"My sweet boy, you deserve so much." You practically purrs against his lips, his cock now solid against the crotch of your panties from your words. You can tell he's properly worked up now, rubbing himself against you.

"Can we...? Please..."

He's unintentionally breathless, senses overwhelmed in the dark and aching to feel more more more. You're so soft in his arms, you're his, and the domesticity of it makes his belly hot with desire.

You nip his plump bottom lip lightly, enough to have him cupping your ass and pushing your hips as close to his as possible in your current position. You do him one better and crawl on top of him all together, his mouth nor his hands straying from yours; refusing, in fact.

Your knees are secure on either side of his warm, taut middle, your hands exploring his broad chest while his fingertips gently grasp the back of your neck.

The kiss is sloppy and becomes lewd very quickly with the way Jongin insists on bucking up against you, years of dancing evident with how smoothly he seems to roll his hips against your cloth covered slit.

Your mouths move together haphazardly, no real rythym now as your inhibitions dissipate between the movement of your tongues. You can tell he's still tired, horny but tired.

You reluctantly pull away from his fever inducing mouth, trying not to become so easily overwhelmed. It's hard when he looks up at you like that, like you're the whole world and more while your fingers slip underneath the waistband of his shorts and pull them down his thighs.

He twitches when you crawl back onto him, the shaft of his smooth dick snug against your center while your mouth leaves a wet trail of open mouthed kisses from his chest to his throat, his skin sweltering.

He whines, and you short circuit at the sound, no matter how familiar it is to your ears. You slip your hand between your bodies to grasp his solid length and slip your panties to the side, grasping onto his broad shoulder for leverage while you sink down onto him.

The stretch is a bit more staggering than you're used to, and it's only now that you're realizing it genuinley has been a while since you and Jongin last got to be this close. He’s always working, as are you and being intimate has somehow slipped through your fingers these past two weeks.

It makes it all the more gratifying, and you can tell he feels just as thrilled, his lips parted and eyebrows furrowed together as a string of expletives leave his mouth.

"You're so wet baby." He says it with strained astonishment, hands wandering from your soft hips to underneath your sleeping shirt and then your breasts. Your hard nipples prod at his palms.

You arch into his touch as you begin to rock yourself against his stiff cock, steady at first in an effort to make the moment last a little longer. You can feel every ridge and curve of him, and you have a hard time not mewling.

"You always make me wet Nini."

You hiccup a gasp as he suddenly thrusts into you, lifting his knees and digging his heels into the mattress in a manner that almost seems knee jerk, like he couldn't help it.

"O-oh baby you're so good to me." It dawns on you quite quickly that he doesn't plan on slowing his minisrations, pulling you down to his mouth by then sides of your neck in a gentle yet urgent manner.

It feels even better like this, his length filling you perfectly in the way it always has, the squelch of your slick as he fucks you only adding to the suddenly thick atmosphere. You can't help but to whimper, body trembling as it remembers just how skilled he really is at making you feel good.

"You like it like this?" He asks earnestly, kissing you between replies to feel the vibration of your soft mewls against his mouth. "Yes Nini, you're so good, s-so good."

His slim fingers find their way to the sides of your throat, and you don't have time to be awestruck by how sweetly he seems to do it, too focused on the way his body moves underneath you.

Your body jolts with the force of his thrusts, and he knows your every reaction so well that it must be obvious how close you are already, your shaky hands grasping his waist.

"Say it again for me, please?"

His tone is different this time, needier and raspier with the effort he's using to make it audible. You can tell just by the way he ever so slightly squeezes the sides of your throat while he begins harshening his pace, what he's hinting at.

And you oblige in the shameless gratification, mimicking his ministrations and securing your fingers around his neck while you fuck yourself onto him in a shared rythym.

It's been too long, he thinks to himself. He's mesmerized, in love with you to a painful degree. Not to mention your mouth...

"So good to me, Nini, you're so fucking big and f-fuck-" he hangs onto every last syllable, watching your lewd expressions and listening to your praises with rapt attention. "want you to fill me up Jongin."

His eyes roll back for just a moment, as your twist your fingers in his honey colored hair, lips suckling the sensitive skin just below his earlobe. His hips stutter, and you know he's as close as you are, hands releasing your neck in favor of keeping you in an iron grip against him.

It all feels like a sweet dream, your face buried against his shoulder, the sweet and warm scent of his skin and soap causing your inner thighs to tingle. You feel him so far inside of you, reaching places only he could, holding you in his arms like a lover all the while.

You're not surprised, to be the first one cumming, but he's struck by a sudden wave of agonizingly overwhelming arousal with the way you cry out his name.

"Jong-jongie, oh-oh!" Your walls have him in a vice grip, and he falls apart while you're quivering against him, his kiss bitten lips finding your tender neck as he pumps himself into you.

"That's my girl, this pussy is m-mine oh b-baby, so fucking good."

His voice is quiet, he's too out of breath, too fucked out. But you can still hear him perfectly, sending heat waves of white hot pleasure through your bones with every word that he groans out.

He fucks himself into you a few more times, languidly and with no real purpose; just needing to savor the feeling. You're still pulsing around him.

His chest rises and falls with less fervor now, his fingertips gently caressing the curve of your back as you rest your head against the crook of his shoulder. He doesn't care to move and neither do you, too tired, and too stubborn to let the other go.

Everything is quiet. And not uncomfortably or unsettlingly so, it’s comforting. You can hear his heartbeat this way, and he can match his breathing up with yours as he does most of the time subconsciously. 

It's two forty five a.m when Jongin whispers sleepily into the darkness, with you asleep on his chest.

"I love you, so much."

[missjaystone]

Inescapable

Summary: Even in the middle of the ocean, your alpha manages to find you, even if it was an accident. Pairing(s): Alpha!Helmut Zemo x Reader Word Count: 3,640 Warning(s): NONCON! DUBCON! A/B/O Dynamics! Forced Claiming! Manipulation! Implied Stalking! Miscarriage mentioned! Death mentioned!

Everything around you froze when you looked up and met a certain pair of brown eyes, a certain sparkle when they looked into yours. The contact was brief before he was led around the corner by the Dora Milaje but it felt like it would never end. You worked on the Raft as a therapist to put as much distance between the two of you as possible but now that he was here, where could you go? The way he smiled at you as he walked by, it wasn't comforting like the first time you'd seen it, it made your heart stop in fear. It made his claiming mark on your neck throb in pain, a reminder of how much power he'd had over you before and how much he'd always have. It reminded you that he was your alpha, whether you wanted him to be or not. The man that passed by you wasn't the man you'd met, he was much worse.

The battle was over, your husband was dead, the child you were growing followed suit not long after you got the news, like he couldn't bear to even be born in a world without his father; you couldn't even blame him, you'd contemplated ending your own life to join your husband in whatever afterlife awaited. You'd just gone back to work after your allotted week of bereavement leave and another week of personal time. You weren't sure if you were ready to go back to work or not, but at the very least it would distract you. The first thing you noticed when stepping into your office were the pictures of you, your husband, and his family. You turned the picture frames face down before you could stare for too long, everyone in the pictures was dead; your husband, your mother and father in law, your two brothers-in-law, everyone.

Your first patient came exactly at 9:30 for their appointment. He was a brown-eyed brunette man of average height, dressed surprisingly nice for a therapy appointment. You greeted him with a soft smile and a handshake. "Welcome, Mr..." you trailed off so he could introduce himself. "Zemo," he answered, his thumb running over your knuckles gently before he let go of your hand and took a seat "Baron Helmut Zemo." "Would you like me to address you as Baron Zemo or Mr. Zemo? Or just simply Helmut if that would make you comfortable?" You asked him. "You can just call me Helmut, Doctor, but thank you for asking," he returned the same sad smile you'd given him when he came in. "Well, Helmut, I'm glad you came in. It's never easy dealing with loss and having someone to talk to is far better than bottling it up. I'm proud of you." He gave a single nod after looking around the office, motioning to the overturned picture on your desk "I thought my friend might be nuts to have referred me here but maybe you understand my pain better than anyone can." You smiled sadly at him "you'd be surprised at how many people understand." You saw his attention drift towards the sweets jar on your desk, holding it out to him "Turkish delight?" He smiled a bit more, this time a little more genuine as he took a piece out "don't mind if I do, Doctor."

After your first appointment, he came back twice a week. He told you about his wife and son, how much it hurt when he finally found their bodies amidst all the rubble. You asked him about his favorite memories with them, trying to make him remember the good times. You asked him about them; his wife's favorite flower or his son's favorite toy, encouraged him to open up about them. Soon he had you talking about your husband and the people you lost. It was amazing how effortlessly he tore down both your professional and emotional walls. He had you falling for him before you even knew you were.

For two months you tried every which way to talk him down off of his growing rage and hatred for the Avengers. You used everything you'd learned in school to make him understand breaking them apart wouldn't bring back his family or make anything better. At the beginning of the third month, he seemed to drop it, and you foolishly thought that was the end of it, that he'd seen reason. He'd slowly been getting bolder during your appointments, asking questions, each more personal than the last but only by a little. One evening, after seeing him for almost four months, he showed up about half an hour after your last appointment of the day, it was about a quarter of six. He was dressed just as nice as he always was, maybe even nicer "I hate to disturb you so late, doctor but may I take you out to dinner this evening? I'd very much like to thank you for these past months; I knew it's your job but I can't imagine what kind of troubled headspace I'd be in if I didn't have you to talk to." He'd asked so politely, how could you refuse? While you gathered your things, you missed the hungry look in his eyes. You missed the way they dragged over your body, the same way a lion looks at his prey. You'd be his omega soon. Whether you wanted it or not. You were his innocent, gentle little lamb and you needed to be protected from other wolves.

Thirty minutes later, the two of you were at his favorite fine dining restaurant in all of Novi Grad. It was fun, the most fun you'd had in months since the battle of Sokovia and the heartbreak that followed. After that first dinner together, it became a more frequent occurrence, usually once a week after his appointment. You were smart, you knew how stupid it was to be dining with the patient so frequently. This professional relationship was becoming close and intimate. He had you on the hook before you could even realize it and pull away. As you began dining with him more, your guard fell. Helmut was no longer your patient, he was your friend, he understood your pains. You began dining together more frequently and then he introduced alcohol into the equation.

When you looked back at everything, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. How could you not see his plan? He was making you comfortable so it'd be easier for him to go in for the kill. Everything you shared with him would get used against you later. Helmut could play your mind like a flute and you let him, you gave him the tools he needed to find your weak spots and exploit them for his own benefit. If he'd crashed into your life and caused as much trouble as he had, you could hate him, but you let him in, welcomed him even and he made himself as comfortable as possible before finally taking what he came for.

Your first night together was gentle and slow, getting to know each other's bodies on such an intimate level. You turned your back to him afterward, eyes watering as the feeling of betrayal settled in the pit of your stomach like a stone. "What's the matter, malo jagnje? Did I hurt you?" He'd asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he looked you over worriedly. You shook your head, quickly wiping your tears before they hit the satin pillow sheets beneath you. "No, it's not you, Helmut," you whispered. "Then what?"  He asked, a worried frown on his face. "I just worry, it feels too soon, like I've already started moving on," you answered with a sniffle. "Nobody mourns the same, jagnje, it's different for everyone. You told me that," he assured you, wrapping you in his arms and pulling your back to his chest.

He repeated everything you'd told him whenever you got emotional. 'Sometimes the best way to honor someone's memory is to find new ways to be happy' 'you can't beat yourself up for being happy without them, this is what they would have wanted' 'nobody can ever replace them but you can't wallow in self-pity forever'. Every piece of advice you gave him was used back against you. The two of you had been seeing each other for two months before you stopped answering his calls and messages. He'd shown up at your apartment when you hadn't returned his messages, worried something had happened to you, that his little side activities trying to destroy the Avengers might have led to you being hurt or captured or worse.

He was relieved to find you alive and well. "You haven't been speaking to me, are you unwell?" He asked after you hesitantly let him inside. "I don't think I can keep doing this, Helmut, I'm sorry," you said in a shaky, quiet voice. His face fell in disappointment "what's the matter? Have I done something? Malo jagnje, please, you can tell me anything you know that," he pleaded, taking your hand only to have it slowly pulled from his grasp.

"It's not you, Helmut," you said as clearly as you could muster, wiping the tears that were already beginning to roll down your cheeks. "Then what is it, moj voljeni? What's happened?" He pleaded for an answer. "It was too soon, I can feel myself forgetting him and I don't want to. I don't want to forget all the time me and Christoph spent imagining and building our future together. I don't want to forget about the baby we almost had, that died inside of me almost as soon as he heard the news of his father's death. I don't want to forget everything he and I had but when I'm with you, I feel the memories slipping away and I'm not ready and I'm so sorry for that Helmut," you told him, sniffling throughout. He stared at you for a long moment after you finished speaking, not saying anything. When he finally did react, he approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead "I understand, little lamb, and I'll wait for you." With that, he gave you a tight hug, rubbing your back comfortingly as you sobbed into his chest for a bit before he left. You went to sleep that night thinking about how lucky you were to have a confidant like Helmut in your life.

You remembered thinking that was the end of things. He took it well and things would continue as they were before you became sexually involved. No wonder he called you his little lamb, you were too innocent and naive to see the anger in his eyes when you told him you'd stop sleeping together. If you knew then what you knew now, you would have run from the hills, hidden at the north pole. You would have gone to the police and gotten a restraining order or hired a security detail. But you didn't do any of that. You were a lamb being led to the slaughter by no one other than yourself.

Helmut stormed into your office on a night he knew you stayed late to put the week's worth of notes away in their correct files. As fast as he'd appeared, he'd closed and locked the door behind him, watching your stunned form for a reaction. "Helmut?" You barely managed to get his name out before he'd crossed the room, pulling you to him and into a rough kiss. No matter how much you shoved his chest, he only pulled away when he was ready to. He effortlessly picked you up and set you on your desk, already positioning himself between your legs "I've waited for you to realize your mistake, jagnje, but I'll wait no more. I know you love me, омега, you're troubled mind is still reeling from the loss too much to accept it." "Helmut, I don't want this anymore, stop it," you shoved him away but it did little to dissuade him. It only angered him.

He grabbed your jaw tightly and made you look into his eyes; the pools of brown swirls had been replaced by black, lust-blown pupils of a... an alpha going through his rut. It sent waves of panic through your mind but waves of something else to your core. You whimpered when you felt your heartbeat speed up, reacting to the alpha's close, intimidating presence. "Helmut this isn't what you want, this isn't you," you tried to reason despite the rising panic telling you to run. He chuckled darkly "oh, little lamb, this is what I've longed for since before I stepped foot in your office. I caught a whiff of your sweet, scent when you visited the memorial all those months ago and I knew you'd be mine. You might not want to admit it, but your body knows you need an alpha like me to treat you right, keep you safe," he hummed as he ground the growing bulge in his pants against your clothed core. "Helmut-" you started, but his squeezing your jaw harder made you stop immediately. "You'll address me as alpha from now on, little lamb. I'd rather not hurt you but tonight I will make you mine by any means necessary, understood?" He asked, loosening his hold so you could nod, which you did hesitantly.

Pleased, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pants and pulled them and your underwear down, a smirk appearing on his features. He pulled your pants completely off and discarded them carelessly, holding your underwear up so you could see just how much you didn't want this; the flimsy black fabric already had a small amount of slick arousal on it. You watched in embarrassed shock and he brought the fabric close and sniffed it, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he tucked them into the pocket of his pants. "I think you do want this little omega, you want to please your alpha don't you?" He asked softly as his hand slowly drifted higher up on your thigh. "You aren't my alpha, Helmut," you said bitterly, ignoring the tears that stung your eyes as you glared daggers at the man you'd considered your friend and confidant. He snarled and dropped his hand to your neck, squeezing until the air barely flowed "but I will me, little lamb. And you'll be my perfect little omega, my perfect girl who'll give me the family we both crave and deserve."

His hand on your thigh finally came in contact with your core which was already soaked and ready for him. He hastily pushed in two of his fingers, curling them as he pulled you into a dominating kiss, nipping your bottom lip enough to bruise. Your denials were muffled by his lips and soon faded into pitiful, needy whines from his unwanted touches. He smiled darkly against your lips when he felt your body arch into him "see, омега? Your body knows what it wants, it's that big beautiful brain of yours that's keeping you down." You shook your head, trying to save any dignity you had left, which was none "I don't want this, Helmut, and I don't want you!" The words felt like acid coming up but his chuckle hurt worse. He was three fingers deep in your cunt, pulling whines and quiet, muffled moans from your lips, he knew you didn't mean that.

When he abruptly pulled his fingers out, you regrettably let out a disappointed whine, another, needier whine following as you watched him suck his fingers clean without break eye contact. It took .2 seconds for him to undo his belt and push his pants and briefs down, stroking his throbbing cock while he looked into your eyes. His hand still holding your wrist remaining just as tight. "I'll always take good care of you, my needy little lamb, you'll never want for anything ever," he promised, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead that didn't match the roughness he used to immediately bury himself to the hilt. He started off with a brutal pace, not giving you any time at all to adjust as he had before. His thrusts were purely animalistic, he was just an alpha trying to knot the omega in front of him amid his own release. He let you bury your face in his chest as an escape for now, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your life.

"See, little lamb? See how much you need your alpha to make you feel good, make you feel better than good?" He asked when you finally gave up on trying to mentally escape the moment. "N-not my alpha," you stuttered out in between the rough hammering of his hips. He snarled and bared his teeth, eyes darkening even more than you thought possible. "We'll see," he mumbled angrily. He tilted your head and moved your hair out of the way quickly, leaving no time for you to react before he sunk his teeth into your mating gland, his hips faltering a few times before his movements went from thrusts to more a series of rapid ruts as his knot began to inflate. Your pained scream was music to his ears, it was the sound of you becoming his omega, making it so no other alpha alive would dare to so much as breath on you.

When he detached from your shoulder, he again pulled you into a kiss, making sure you could taste the metallic taste of your blood on his lips while the feeling of euphoria from the bite coursed through your veins, reaching every last nerve ending. He let out a pleased groan when he felt your cunt strain around his knot as you came, sending him headfirst into his own climax almost immediately. His face happily buried in your chest as he rode out his orgasm, ropes of his cum painting your walls, reaching your innermost areas while you held onto him for dear life.

Your stifled sobs made him look up, a small frown on his face. "Oh, little lamb, don't cry," he said softly as he wiped your cheeks "I just want to keep you safe from all the wolves in the world, it won't always be this way." He ignored how hard your palm connected to his cheek "you bastard!" He gently picked you up and sat down in your chair, letting you curl up in his lap without dislodging his knot, smirking slightly when he heard your whimper at the shift in position. He soothingly rubbed your back as he held you close, comforting you "it's okay, омега, I'd hoped you'd accept us on your own terms but my rut came early and nobody else will do." You hated this; being reduced to your dynamic, to some cock sleeve for him to use as he saw fit. He'd bound you to him for the rest of your lives and there was nothing you could do about it now, so you curled into his chest and sobbed until you had no more tears.

You recalled the way he stayed with you for the rest of the night, comforting and tending to you. He'd return often, usually every other day to take you out somewhere for a date or just show up at your apartment to do it all over again. You couldn't put up much of a fight, once he was close enough, your omega side came out and you were putty in his hands. And he knew that, and he treasured it. He showered you in gifts; clothes, jewelry, wines, books, everything he could think of. When his visits became few and further in between, you hated the nerves you felt. You hated the way you wondered when he'd come back home to you. You were messed up, and it felt like it was all your doing. You broke your professional rules. You let him into your life. You told him everything he needed to know to get to you. You let him claim you. You were Baron Helmut Zemo's little lamb, and he'd never let you forget it, leaving bruises on your thighs and hickeys on your neck to show any and everyone you were a protected little omega, and woe to anyone who caught your alpha's wrath.

You then had to watch in horror as his actions became known on the news; he'd never given up his plot to destroy the Avengers. He'd succeeded more than he could have ever dreamed of and now, he was in jail. He'd be in jail for the rest of his life. It felt like losing your husband all over again, the pain deep in your heart hurt twice as much now. You practically had to go through detox to get used to life without your Helmut around you. You were still protected by his mark but you'd never get to listen to him shower you with praises while he cleaned you up after sex. You had to get used to a life without being on his arm and you hated yourself for craving his attention and companionship that you'd still claim to hate.

He smiled so happy when they stopped while waiting for the door to open. He spoke in Sokovian so nobody around understood him "izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo." "What'd he just say?" Your superior asked, looking between the two of you. You felt that familiar stone in the pit of your stomach, he'd have you doing his bidding in no time. You were already wrapped around his finger. You shook your head and looked at your boss "he's mistaken me for someone else." "Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje," Helmut said with a smirk before he was pulled away by a member of the Dora Milaje, leaving you with a wink.

-malo jagnje - мало јагње - little lamb -jagnje - јагње - lamb -moj voljeni? - мој вољени - my beloved -омега - omega -izgledaš prelepo kao onog dana kad sam te pogledao, jagnje malo - изгледаш прелепо као оног дана кад сам те погледао, јагње мало - you look as beautiful as the day I laid eyes on you, little lamb -Jedva čekam da stignem, jagnje - Једва чекам да стигнем, јагње - I can't wait to catch up, lamb

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.  

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

[wearywinchester]

Something Old and Something New — Part Two

Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When life takes a turn and you take an unexpected break from college in Stanford with your best friend Sam, you return home to your job at your family’s co-owned garage. You return home to work alongside the guy you thought you hated—Dean Winchester.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, mild swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff

Three weeks.

It’d been three weeks since you’d arrived back home in Kansas for an amount of time you don’t know if you’ve decided on yet. Three weeks of wondering the right way to tell Sam just how you felt about law school in actuality. Because since you’ve been back, you found it harder and harder to want to leave like you had planned to eventually.

Putting things off rapidly became your specialty when it came to this you’ve noticed, the very thoughts in your mind having revolved around this very subject yet you still can’t find it in yourself to pick up your textbook and study like you said you would. You’ve got a year left, you keep reminding yourself of that. A year before you finish and get your degree, a year before you can pack that up and put that chapter of your life behind you if you so pleased to do so.

But when you thought more about it, the worse it sounded as you mulled it over. Another year of doing something that didn’t make you as happy as it should. Studying law wasn’t something you believed to be thrilling even to the most eager student out there, even to Sam. You’ve caught him on more than one occasion throwing his textbook across his room. It was a complicated profession to study, one with a million endless words to read through and fully grasp should you want to be a success.

You wanted to be, but maybe you wanted to be a success in something else.

Your mind had been swimming with thought after thought on the matter, but apart from that things weren’t so bad. It hasn’t taken you long to settle back into your apartment, the place you’ve been missing ever since you left to go back to college a few months ago. It was a contrast to your place with Sam, housing quite a few more of your personal belongings. It was a place that’s all your own, and not that you didn’t love Sam’s company, but it was nice to come home to have time for yourself.

Even if you didn’t live an extraordinarily eventful life, you were content with your own company.

Things had fallen back into place at the garage over those last few weeks, some days far busier than others. Things were a bit different with Dean since that first day back. Not that he hasn’t been up to his usual tricks, not that the two of you hadn’t still bickered over trivial things like you’d done with each other for the better part of twenty-four years. That was still very much a part of your daily schedule and you don’t know if that’ll ever change.

But there was something different, something you couldn’t quite figure out.

The moment you saw the lack of cars in the parking lot when you’d pulled in you knew you were in for a day, could tell by the way the green eyed Winchester had leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest when you walked in the door with a squinting gaze.

“You’re late,” he says, head tilted and brow raised.

“No, you’re just always early,” you say.

He chuckles then, looking away from a moment before turning back to you, an expression on his face you knew all too well.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, tone cautious as you cross your own arms over your chest, keys jingling in the otherwise quiet garage.

The corner of his mouth quirks up at your words, something that only deepens the crease between your brows when you see it. You knew it meant nothing good, it had to, he doesn’t smile like that unless it’s something you don’t want to hear.

“Benny and Bobby went out to check out a new sign for the shop, ‘s just you and me today,” he says, his arms falling to his sides to slip his hands in his pockets.

Your eyes roll immediately, more so at the contentment filling his expression. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m serious,” he says, pushing himself off the counter. “You were the one complainin’ about the sign anyway.”

You purse your lips at his words, ones that were very true but it didn’t help your cause for him to be right this time. It was doing the exact opposite and the grin sitting smug on his lips was more than telling that he knew exactly that.

“And,” he started, your sigh immediate as you tip your head back. “It’s a slow day today, so you get to help me work on Baby.”

“I don’t think I ever offered to help,” you said, putting your keys on the hook and your bag under your desk.

“Lucky for you, you didn’t have to,” he says, nothing but teasing in his tone as he reaches over the counter and swipes the candy from your jar.

“It’s 9 o’clock in the morning and you’re already steaming my stuff,” you say, huffing as you sway his hand away before he can get any more.

“Be in the shop in five, sweetheart!” He calls over his shoulder, finger pointed in the air in the direction of the clock before he disappeared around the corner.

It was hot, hotter than you’d like as you worked that day. The garage doors were open and the fan was on high, but the summer heat was proving to be just a little more persistent than your efforts. The radio had been turned up just a little louder than it would have been if Bobby had been there that day, a little louder than it would be had it been busier. All of the good classics had been playing in a steady list of hits all morning, Dean’s humming accompanying it along with a string of lyrics every so often.

Your hand stayed pressed to the wheel as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, returning your focus to tightening the very last lug-nut on the wheel.

“I gotta say, I’m impressed,” Dean says, muffled before he leans out from under the hood to look at you for a moment.

You miss the way he looks at you, at the way it’s far too easy for him to become distracted with the way your tongue pokes out in concentration or the smudge of grease on your cheek. You miss the beginnings of a smile on his lips before he ducks back down to work under the hood of his car.

“I know more about cars than you think, Dean,” you say, standing to your feet and wiping your hands on your jeans. “‘Sides, rotating tires isn’t rocket science.”

The smile he had widened a fraction, his head shaking as he leaned over the front end. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard a series of metallic clatters, a string of curses leaving Dean’s lips that had him huffing in irritation. You walked over to him with a raised brow, watching as he fished around somewhere under the hood blindly, his nose scrunched and his lip curled up as he struggled to reach what he was looking for.

He pulled his arm back out, empty handed and his knuckles were scraped an angry red as grease smudged darkly around them.

“What is it?”

“I dropped my wrench and the freakin’ thing is stuck,” he huffs, running his hands over his face. “I’m gonna need you to reach in there and get it.”

Your brow remained raised, eyeing his hand before your gaze flickers back up to his.

“C’mon, Y/n. Your hands are smaller than mine.” You roll your eyes at his words, peering over into the spot he’d been rooting around in before he spoke up once more. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, shooing him away as you catch sight of the tool glimmering brightly amongst everything else.

A huff leaves your lips as you try and figure out how to maneuver around everything just so you could get to it, your other hand pressing to the edge of the car to steady your balance. You could see just a little better than him but not anything significant, and you find yourself patting around in hopes your fingertips land on what you’re hoping to grab. Your luck was rapidly becoming the same as Dean’s when you came up short, though you might just top his.

The moment you moved your hand down further was proving to be a mistake— you may have grabbed the tool you’d set out to look for but the feel of something you hadn’t seen ran sharp and unforgiving along the side of your hand. It sent a jolt of pain through you as you gasped, a soft yelp sounding as that same metallic clatter happened a second time.

Dean turned his head, the sight of your scrunched face having him cross the garage in a few bounding steps.

“Ouch!” You groan, pulling your hand out and groaning.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes bouncing from you to his car before returning to you.

“I scratched my hand on your car, Dean. What’s it look like?” You say, squeezing your hand in hopes that it’d make it hurt less, even if it was just a little bit better.

“Dammit!” Dean says the moment he sees your hand, the moment he sees the scarlet smudging around the scratch you refused to let him see to avoid this kind of reaction. “Y/n I told you to be careful!”

You could hear the frustration in his tone loud and clear, and if you hadn’t fed off of that very same frustration you’d be able to see that there was something different in the way that he looked at you. You didn’t know the way worry clouded his mind in that moment, or the flash of fear that ran through him when he’d first heard you gasp. But you didn’t, you did what you knew best when it came to Dean Winchester—you bickered.

“Okay, well that’s not helping me now!” You argue, your good hand wrapping around the other as you hold them to your chest. Your cheeks burned under his stare, narrowed and discontented. “And I was careful, by the way. Don’t worry, your pretty car is fine.”

“Y/n, you’re freakin’ bleeding, okay?” He says, voice still loud and still frustrated but the worry on his face was clear. “And don’t be ridiculous.”

“‘M fine,” you huff, turning away from him. You made it all but two steps before he spoke up, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/n wait,” he said, voice softer than before. When you turn back, you can see the dimples at the corners of his mouth and you can see the flare in his nostrils—you can see the softer look in his eyes. You could see the bit of hesitation he held onto in that moment. “Let me patch you up.”

You shifted on your feet, a quiet huff leaving your lips. “Dean, I can do it myself.”

He shook his head, a laugh leaving his lips as he brushed past you to head into the garage. “C’mon.”

You rolled your eyes when he walked ahead of you, hopping over the counter by your front desk, patting your seat with a smile on his lips. You sit down as he squats to rifle through the cabinets, grabbing the peroxide and blindly putting the bottle on the counter. He snagged a fresh towel and a few gauze, a wrap and a few bandages that was a bit more than necessary.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this thing stocked with first aid supplies before,” you say, a laugh in your words as you feign surprise.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, standing to his feet as he sets the other stuff down. “Benny just might be even more clumsy than you. I gotta be honest, I never thought that’d be possible.”

“Would it kill you to be nice just once, Winchester?” You ask, squinting up at him as you bite the inside of your cheek.

He pretends to ponder the question just to get on your nerves, just to see you frown the way you do because he knows it never lasts long. You know he’s got something to say, can see it by the way his smile returns. “I like to think I’m very nice. But for you, maybe it’ll kill me.”

You lips pursed and your jaw clenches, his head tilting as he flashes you his award winning mocking smile. You could feel that same frustration from just minutes ago bubbling in your stomach, the urge to grab the supplies from the counter and do it yourselves having grown almost too much. But the moment he looks at you, all teasing aside, his gaze just a little bit softer, a little bit more intense, that’s what has you changing your mind.

He sits down on the other chair, his thighs parted so he could scoot closer to you to make things all the more easier and much less cumbersome. “Let me see what you got goin’ on, butterfingers.”

You give him an exasperated look before you glance down at the hand you still held close to your chest, eyeing the crimson smeared on the fingers of your other hand. It throbbed and it burned, the grease on your hands surely doing you no favors. But, with all the hesitancy in the world you pulled your hand from your chest and extended it out towards him, cheeks burning at the sight of it because it looked much worse than you thought it did. Much more than you played it off as not more than five minutes prior.

His brows furrowed as he took your hand, turning it to get a better look.

“Baby really got you good, didn’t she?” He hummed, grabbing the towel he’d gotten before pushing himself up to his feet to go wet it at the sink.

Your gaze cast downward at the cut running jagged along the outer side of your hand, swiping your finger along it in an attempt to brush away some of the dirt still smudged on your skin.

“Don’t do that,” Dean says, sitting down in front of you once more.

You roll your eyes as you sigh, eyes bouncing up to catch the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he looked downwards and shook his head, green eyes flickering up just briefly in time to catch your gaze.

“Have you always been this bossy?” You ask, watching as he takes your hand in his, gentle as he turns it.

“Oh, shut up,” he says, but you don’t miss the way the corner of his mouth quirks up, a smile he tries to hide as he swipes his tongue over his lips.

He takes the dampened towel in his other hand, careful as he blots and presses it over the wound, the once clean fabric now stained a crimson as he swiped it over your hand. His eyes look up at the way you tense, brief and wordless and he saw the way your lip sat between your teeth, at the way you’ve got your brows knit together. But he looked away before you could notice, lightening his touch before he cleaned away the dirt and blood on your other hand.

He set the towel on his lap, snagging the bottle of peroxide before flipping the cap open with his thumb.

“This is gonna hurt, sweetheart,” he mumbles, looking up when he hears the softness of your laughter. “What?”

You shrug your shoulders, your hand still enveloped in his own. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me that in a way that wasn’t sarcastic.”

Your tone was full of faux shock, near theatrical as you pressed your free hand to your heart, one that made him roll his eyes immediately.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but you can hear the lighthearted tone he held. You nudged his boot with your shoe, heaving a sigh.

He moved his hand to hold yours a little more comfortably, the cold metal of his ring brushing across your skin. It brought you back to the current moment, but not quite as much as the clear liquid pouring over your skin, stinging and burning as it bubbled white over your irritated wound. A gasp sounded then, your brows furrowing once more.

“A little heads up would’ve been nice!” You say, nearly pulling your hand from his grasp.

“I did,” he says, offering a teasing smile.

You slump back in your seat with a huff as he releases your hand for a moment, for the first time in what feels like ages, ripping open a bandage before returning his attention back to you and the task at hand. He pressed it over the length of the cut on your hand, the one that still burned from the peroxide just a mere minute before.

It was then that your gaze fell on him, at the crease between his brows as he tried his best to keep from causing any more pain unbeknownst to you. At the sweat beaded across his freckled cheeks and nose from the warm summer heat, a single drop of it having trailed down to the very tip of it. As if you’d shared the same thoughts, he’d paused his actions and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging it upwards to swipe across his face.

It was a matter of moments before he’d begun wrapping gauze around your hand, tearing it free from its roll with his teeth before tucking the loose end into itself.

“You’re good as new,” he says, looking up to meet your gaze.

You felt your cheeks burn at the fact that it became apparent to him that you’d already been looking, something you knew you should stop doing but for the life of you, you couldn’t.

Your eyes bounced over every inch of his face to avoid his gaze— at the slight raise of his brow, at the sweat accumulating on his cheeks once more, at the freckles smattering across his nose and more importantly, more distractingly, the freckle sitting pretty on his lips. You knew that the longer you averted his eyes the more foolish you looked, and right now you were batting a thousand at doing just that.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, and words, whatever they may have, been sat on the very tip of your tongue and it became increasingly more obvious that your hand was still in his. The closeness of your proximity wasn’t far behind that either.

It was then that your phone rang, pulling your attention as your hand fell from his grasp. You sat for a moment longer, flustered, before you pushed your chair from him to reach it, the smile on your face evident.

He watched that smile grow as you pressed the phone to your ear, the rest of your attention rapidly becoming stolen for the time being.

“Sam!” You say when you answer.

At first, you miss the way Dean swallowed thickly, still sitting in the same spot. But it’s the muffled squeak of the chair’s wheels rolling across the concrete floor that had you glancing over at him, seeing the familiar furrow of his brows that was more than just nothing, at the tension heavy in his jaw as he looked away from you. You watched him while you listened to Sam, at the way he swept off the trash and crinkled it in his fist, tossing it in the garbage before disappearing around the corner.

His change in mood wasn’t lost on you, but it was something you quickly pushed from your mind with mere confusion when Sam repeated your name what had to be two or three times.

—

It was much cooler that evening as the clouds started to accumulate, the sun dipping low enough to stave off the heat that hung heavy in the air. The sunshine that did peek through the windows, broken into stripes by your blinds had painted everything it landed on a deep orange, dimming the later it’d gotten.

You sighed as you rinsed off your dishes from dinner, loading everything in the dishwasher for the night. When the doorbell rings your brows furrow, gaze shifting to the clock on the microwave. 8:14 pm.

You dry your hands on a tea towel, trying your best to avoid your bandages as you smoothed down your clothes, heading to the front door in curiosity to who could have been at your door at this time of day.

When you unlock the door and open it a crack, the crease between your brows deepens, the door opening wider once you see who’s standing on the other side of it.

“Dean?”

He stood there, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. He’s got a change of clothes on now, a pair of jeans on that have a rip in one of the knees and a t-shirt that’s free of black grease stains and sweat. And despite the summer weather he’s got a flannel on over top the sleeves rolled up to his elbows in true Dean Winchester fashion. But perhaps the most noticeable thing was the half-smile he wore as he looked at you.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, leaning against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest.

“You uh—you left this at work today,” he says, lifting his hand as your sweater dangled from the tip of his finger.

You laughed softly at the sight of it, eyes rolling at the sight of the sweater you never failed to show up with should you get cold at work or anywhere you are. Odds are, you didn’t need it most times but sometimes you do.

You tilt your head and raise your brow, knowing full well that he himself knew he could have just left it there overnight.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted an excuse to come and see me.” He rolls his eyes then, tossing the sweater at you as his lips purse. “Spit it out, Winchester.”

“Just wanted to see how your hand’s holdin’ up, that’s all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders as he glances down at the bandage still wrapped around your hand. It’s got a few dirt smudges on it from his hands earlier that day, but that was the least of your concerns.

“‘M fine, Dean.”

He nods, hands stuffed in his pockets before his brows furrow.

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks, and you follow his gaze to the suitcase and duffel bags still sitting where they’d been in the corner by the doorway. The same spot you’d left them the day you came back home.

You turn back to him, breathing out a sigh. “It’s a long story.”

“I got time,” he says, the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a half smile.

“Is this your way of inviting yourself inside, Dean?”

“Is it working?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you squint up at him, a few moments passing before you let out a huff and step to the side as his grin widens.

“Nice place. Who would’ve thought you’ve got decent taste,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“That’s not exactly a compliment, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” He says, eyeing the records you’ve got stacked by the tv.

You shake your head as you make your way to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab two beers off the shelf. When you spin on your heel you find him leaning against the little kitchen table you’ve got, his gaze bouncing around the room as if to take everything in as his fingers tap against the hardwood.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before,” he says, taking it from your outstretched hand.

“I’ve tried to keep it that way,” you jest, catching the way he laughs at first, his expression falling neutral once he realizes your words before he follows you out to your back porch.

It’s quiet when you take a seat, the colors of the sunset becoming more muted the lower the sun dips into the horizon. It’s become routine for you to come out here in the evenings, taking a moment for yourself to unwind at the end of the day. Your apartment back with Sam doesn’t have a backyard, not even a balcony though you suppose it wasn’t quite so bad. But it wasn’t this.

He took a seat by you, cracking open his beer and taking a long swig or two as he looked out at the trees.

“I wasn’t worried about you ruining my car earlier, you know,” he says after a few beats of silence.

You laugh softly to yourself, nodding at his words. “Either you’ve gotten good at lying, or you really mean that.”

“What do you think?” He asks, amusement in his tone.

“With you, I can never tell.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” he says, nudging your foot with his boot as he shakes his head and looks forward.

You knew he meant it, by the way he’d looked at you when he said it you knew he did. Dean Winchester might not outright say how he’s feeling unless it’s in the form of his teasing at you in particular, but his looks give it away every single time.

“So why did you come back,” he asks, tipping his head back and taking a sip from his beer. You chuckle at the question, soft and half of humor, half not. “Oh, c’mon. It can’t be that bad.”

You tilt your head as you look at him, lips pursed for a moment as you shake your head. You were hesitant as you mulled it over in your head, but you found there was no use in playing it off. There was no way around it.

“It doesn’t exactly feel good being a twenty-four year old running away from college to come back home because they decide they don’t like the degree they’re studying a year before graduation. ‘Sides, I also ran back to a job where I’m stuck working with a green eyed dork,” you say, eyes glimmering with mischief as you hide your smile behind your beer bottle.

“Speak for yourself, I’m a joy to be around!” He scoffs into his own bottle, his smile in his voice. You sigh, resting your head against the back of your chair as your eyes fall closed for a moment. “It ain’t that bad. Can’t blame you for leaving if you didn’t like it.”

“Whatever you say, Winchester.”

It’s quiet save for his chuckle, the crickets singing and the lightning bugs flashing whenever they so pleased amongst the backyard.

“Have you told Sam?” He asks after a little while, watching as you pick at the label on the tinted bottle.

“No,” you say, softer as you exhale a sigh. “Not yet.”

“Wow,” he says, brows raised slightly in surprise as he nods. “I thought you told him everything.”

There’s a laugh in his words, quiet and it held something a little different than humor, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you didn’t question it too much as he looked at his feet.

“Yeah, well, not this,” you say, swiping your tongue over your lips as you thought about just how you were supposed to do it. You didn’t know. “Speaking of Sam, why’d you get all broody when he called earlier?”

“Broody?” He asks, brow raised slightly.

“Yeah. You had that pout goin’ on like you do when you sulk.”

He chuckles then, shaking his head as he fumbles and twists the bottle in his hands. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/n/n.”

You only nod, eyeing that look on his face.

“He’s coming up here to visit in a couple weeks,” you say, your smile evident the more you talk about it. The more you think about you the more your face lights up. The more you beam.

That’s what it was.

The thing that had him all broody. He sees the way your face lights up when you talk about him, when you talk to him. He sees that smile, the one that makes him weak in the knees so much that he’d never ever admit it because there isn’t ever a reason to. Because you smile just like that over his brother. He doesn’t even have to be there for you to do it. He gets it though, he does.

He was excited to see his baby brother, there was no doubt in that, but he couldn’t help the feeling that was simmering in the pit of his stomach.

His mouth opens and closes once, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. He clears his throat then, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

“I uh—I gotta head home. Wanna get an early start tomorrow,” he says, standing to his feet.

“Oh,” you say, watching as he flashes you a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding as he stands there and looks at you a moment more. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

You watch as he slips through the door and back into your apartment, setting his empty bottle in the sink before walking out of view. It wasn’t long before you heard the rumble of his car when he started it as you sat by yourself on your back porch, that familiar rumble heightening as he put it in drive before he drove off.

You bit the inside of your cheek then, resting your head against the back of your chair as you sighed. You sighed because as you sat there by yourself, you found yourself wishing maybe he’d have stayed a little bit longer.

—

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[babyboy-cody]

unrequited (PART THREE)

PAIRING: Michael/Fem!Reader, Roman/Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: When Michael leaves for a business meeting, Y/N finds comfort in Roman’s presence.

WARNINGS: michael being an absolutel dick, roman being an absolute sweetheart, subtle flirting, bad thoughts, brief anxiety attack

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

“What do you mean you’re leaving? It’s our anniversary this week, Michael. You expect me to celebrate alone?” You weakly protested as he hurriedly packed his bags without sparing you a glance. “I made plans for us..”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. This is a very important business trip and I need to leave in ten minutes. I’m not going to coddle you and have you change my mind, sweetheart. It’s not that big a deal,” he huffs and rolls his eyes. “Where the hell did you put my ties?”

You sighed softly and went into the walk-in closet that had Michael’s clothes on one side and yours on the other. You reached into a box and opened the lid to show him the neatly folded ties. “They’re where they’ve always been, Michael,” you quietly told him. You crossed your arms over your stomach as a defense mechanism when he stalked closer to look inside the box. He never once laid a hand on you or Aurora, but just his presence makes you uneasy. You had never felt this way before until now when he stood a few inches away from you.

“You know I hate when you touch my shit, Y/N,” he snapped and grabbed more of his things and went back out to the bedroom to continue packing. “From now on, leave my things alone. Got it?” He stared you down, nearly burning a hole into your soul when you meekly nodded.

Almost on cue, Aurora started whimpering in the little monitor you kept on the dresser. You breathed out a sigh of relief and hurried out into the hall, walking down a few doors away and into the little angel’s room. She’s holding onto the bars of her crib, bouncing happily when she sees you. You cooed gently and picked her up, cradling her in your arms as you breathe in that baby scent.

“Hello, my love,” you gently told her and kissed her cheeks, relishing her quiet giggles as she grips onto your necklace. “Did you have a good rest, hm? Mama’s got some new fruits waiting for you.”

“I’m leaving,” you hear Michael’s voice from behind you, causing you to gasp and hold onto Aurora tightly as you turn to look at the emotionless man. “I’ll.. walk you out then.”

You both walked down the long spiral staircase while Aurora babbled incoherently, mumbling “mama” every now and then. You hushed her softly and kissed her head, loving the smell of the faint shampoo you used on her this morning. Michael opened the front door and sat his suitcases on the top step.

“I should be home on the 23rd. I expect everything to be the way I left it. Do not go into my office. I will find out, okay?” He stared at you with such intimidation that it made you feel uneasy. You hesitatingly nodded and leaned up to give his lips a kiss, but he subtly turned his head so your lips would kiss his cheek. You felt a pang in your heart and sucked in a shaky breath. Michael’s motion almost felt like a punch in your gut.

“Let me know when you land,” you softly told him and took back into your home, not looking at him as you hold onto the knob. “I love you, Michael.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Y/N,” he tells you before picking up his suitcases and walking down the steps to the car waiting for him outside the gate.

You swallowed down a whimper as your eyes instantly filled with tears. Aurora whined quietly and looked up at you with a distressed look at the sight of seeing her mother so distraught and sad. You sniffled and shut the door gently, making sure it was locked before you pressed your back against it and finally letting the dam break. You’re not sure why it hurt so much after being so used to Michael’s actions. But not heating those words you so desperately needed from him was like a stab to your heart.

“Why?” You blubbered and shook your head at yourself. “W-Why?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

It was almost midnight when you had put Aurora down for her sleep. You watched her for a few moments, not having the heart to leave her just yet. She was the only good thing out of your marriage. She keeps you busy - keeps you on your toes. With her rosy cheeks and soft eyelashes, you’re almost glad that she looks like a mini vision of yourself rather than Michael. With one last brush of your fingers on her stomach, you left the room with the baby monitor in your hand. Now, you were left in a house of silence.

You can hear your heart thumping loudly in your ears as you shallowly breathed in and out. You shakily walked down the steps while grasping tightly onto the banister. You went into the kitchen, your vision blurry from the overflowing of tears filling your eyes. You grasped onto the counter and slow sunk down to your knees, desperately pressing your back onto the cupboards behind you. There was a faint ringing in your ear and your hands trembled so viciously that it was hard for you to grasp onto your knees to keep you grounded.

“No, no, no, no,” you whispered to yourself and covered your ears as you rocked back and forth. Your fingers gripped onto your strands of hair. The burning pain of your roots being pulled was enough ot bring you back to a sense of calmness. You hiccuped and struggled to take in a steady breath. You counted to ten in your head and finally became aware of your senses. Five things you can see, four things you can physically feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste.

Five things you can see - the smoky maroon cuboards, the freshly watered plants on the windowsill, the hanging kitchen lights, your bright red painted toenails, and the little pile of notes on the counter.

Four things you can physically feel - the cold tiled floor under your thighs, your hair tickling your shoulders, your fingers interlocked with each other, and a small tear rolling down your flushed cheek.

Three things you can hear - the kitchen clock quietly ticking, Aurora’s soft snores on the baby monitor, and the neighbor’s dog faintly barking across the street.

Two things you can smell - your rose water facial spray and the cleaning spray you used to wipe down the counters.

One thing you can taste - your strawberry lip balm.

Your frantic heartbeat steadied and you were able to breath again. Your rest your head back and breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth a few times. The tears have now dried and your hands were no longer shaky. Aurora’s snores still sounded on the monitor and you had a small smile as you imagiend her lips to be parted with a small dribble of spit on them. But then, that feeling of loneliness soon hit harder than before. You stood up with a small groan, an ache in your joints after sitting on the hard ground for a few minutes. You opened the drawer next to the fridge that held notepads, pens, tape, scissors, takeout menus, and written notes. Rifling deeper and further inside, you pulled out the familiar napkin that Roman had written his number on a few weeks ago.

You looked around the kitchen to find your phone, letting out a small noise of triumphwhen you spotted it amongst the numerous books you laid out. You nervously bit your lip and played with the locket around your neck. After dialing the numbers, you listened as it rung. You felt the nerves again in the pit of your stomach. You swallowed and was about to hang up when you heard his voice.

“Hello?” He asked on the other line.

“Um, is this Roman Godfrey?” You softly asked him.

“Who’s speaking?” He sternly asked, now more alert than before. “How did you get this number?”

Completely caught off guard, you choked up a response. “Um.. this is Y/N.. from the coffee shop? We met a few weeks ago, I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

“Oh!” He eased up again, and you can almost hear his smile through the phone. “I apologize, Y/N. I’ve been receiving a lot of spam calls and it’s been driving me nuts.”

“It’s alright,” you laughed smile. “Again, I’m sorry for calling you so late. I just.. had nothing better do to and you popped into my head.”

“Oh yeah? You been thinking about me?” He cheekily asked you, causing you to snort and roll your eyes as you felt a blush creep up on your cheeks. “I had nothing better to do either. I’m trying to find a good show to binge watch on Netflix.”

“Oh really? I have a few suggestions if you’d like?” You told him excitedly and grabbed the baby monitor before hurrying over to your comfy couch, grabbing the remote and immediately turning the tv on. “I think you’ll my wide variety of movies and shows.”

“Oh yewh? We’ll see about that,” Roman laughs quietly, smiling wide in the other line when he hears your laugh. “I like that laugh... hehehehe.”

“Oh God, please do not imitate that Justin Bieber meme,” you covered your mouth to hide your laugh. “You’re really funny, Roman. I never thought of you to be a man of humor.”

“I am incredibly insulted,” he gasped mock offended. “What kind of man did you think I was, hm?”

You shrugged to yourself, remembering that he couldn’t see you. “I don’t know.. a man of serious business.”

“A man of serious business,” he repeats softly. “Well if by serious business, you mean making you laugh and smile, then yes, I am a man of serious business.”

“Oh hush, Godfrey,” you sucked your teeth and blushed. “But thank you. I haven’t laughed like this in.. a while. It feels good.”

“I’m glad,” he quietly told you. “They say laughter is the best medicine.”

“I heard,” you laughed quietly and looked at the red Netflix logo on the television. “Okay, now the Netflix recommendations.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

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[holylulusworld]

The Roommate (5) - Happy together

Summary: You and John belong together.

Pairing: AU John Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, OFC Sharon

Warnings: language, angst, plus sized reader, mentions of sex, flirty John, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, implied smut

A/N: The idea for plot and some details came from @shooterere per request.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​

The Roommate masterlist

“So, are you healthy again,” Dean sits on your desk, to watch you hastily thumb through a few contracts. “Y/N, I asked you a question.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes drifting toward John walk into your office, smirking like someone who stole your virginity not days ago. “Perfectly fine.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” muttering John’s eldest son gets up from your desk to warily watch his father round your desk to hand you another contract. “You fucked!”

“What?” you choke on air, looking at John with wide, fearful eyes.

“I can smell the tension and you look like dad marked your whole body with his teeth,” pointing at the bite mark on your neck, the one you tried to poorly hide with a scarf Dean smirks.

“I got no clue what you are talking about,” John grumbles, sitting on your desk, fingers dancing over your thigh. “And if I tasted her sweetness, it’s mine from now on.”

“Naughty girl got her hands on my dad. Good job, sweetheart,” Dean offers you a high-five. “Don’t let him get away with stealing your sweetness, keep him at your house and never stop riding his dick.”

“Dean!” you tut. “Not so loud. I-I didn’t ride his dick!”

“Dad,” Dean gives his father a stern look, but his lips curve into a dirty grin. “Let that girl ride dick. Give her what she needs.”

“Son, I swear I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident if you don’t stop right now,” threatening his son John watches you intensely.

You burst into laughter when Dean looks at you like a kicked puppy. “Aw, don’t hurt Dean. He’s lonely and begs for attention.”

“’m not,” Dean protests. “Maybe I’m simply happy my father finally got laid. He won’t be grumpy anymore, lucky bastard.” ushering out of the room before his father can fulfill his promise to kill him, Dean smirks. “I’m gonna tell Sammy I won the bet. Thank you for fifty bucks.”

“Bet?” you cock your head to look at Dean.

“Yeah, I said dad won’t make it another week. Sammy said he’ll wait two more weeks. Bobby grumbled something about that this is none of our fucking business but lost anyway.”

“That fucker,” John groans when you giggle again. “That’s not funny. My son’s made bets on my sex life.”

“What’s all this?” looking at the bouquet of red roses you wonder why John smiles at you. “John?”

“It’s our three months anniversary,” he explains. “I know it’s not an anniversary people usually celebrate but I felt like bringing you flowers today, doll.”

“John, the flowers are beautiful, but you didn’t have to buy them for me,” your heart flutters when John exclaims he couldn’t stop thinking about you when he saw the roses. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, doll,” John pecks your cheek, groaning when he hears Dean clear his throat behind his back.

“Sorry to disturb your quickie at Y/N’s office but I need help with the new customer. That guy drives me nuts. He refuses to let me open the hood. I tried to explain to him that I can’t find out what’s wrong with his car without having a look at the engine.”

“Fine, give me a few minutes and I’ll talk to that douche. What’s wrong with people lately. Who comes to a mechanic only to refuse to let them open the hood of his car?”

“Sir, if you don’t want us to repair your car, you are free to go and look for someone else,” John grunts. For half an hour he tried to convince his latest customer to open the hood of his car for Dean or Bobby.

“I came out here,” the man retorts, “only for you to not knowing how to find out what's wrong with my car.”

“I told you an hour ago that your car sounds like there is nothing wrong with the engine. The noises it makes tells me all I need to know, but I can’t repair it without opening the hood,” Dean lost his patience minutes ago and only wants to get rid of the annoying customer.

“Boss, there’s someone called Jim on the phone, he says his car is broken,” you poke your head out of the window to call for your boss. “Do you have a minute, John?”

“What did you say?” John looks in your direction, furrowing his brows as he didn’t get what you said. “Can you come out, doll?”

“Just a minute, boss,” you give John a thumb up before closing the window.

“Pastor Jim said it looks like the engine overheated,” you explain. “Shall I call him back and tell him you’ve got no time.” glancing at the customer you furrow your brows. “That guy, I know him.”

“You do?” John wonders, looking over his shoulder before he leads you a few steps away. “How come that you know him?”

“That guy, he’s an asshole,” you huff. “Marcy, one of my colleagues, kicked him out once. He came to our library every Thursday only to walk around, sneering at anyone who wanted to help him, and then, he just left, slamming the door shut.”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean yells, throwing his hands up in surrender and you snicker at his outburst.

“Kathy from the shop around the corner told us he came to her shop, looked around, grunted at her employees, and told her she should fire them as they tried to help him.”

“Fine, that is enough. I will kick that bastard out and we can have a lunch break,” John walks toward the customer.

“Dad, that was freaking awesome when you threatened to demolish his car,” Dean laughs, stealing another slice of pizza. “I never saw a guy run faster toward his car.”

“Seems like he gets off by treating people like shit,” Bobby explains. “Must be one lonely bastard.”

“Loneliness is awful, Mr. Singer,” you say, smiling when John grasps for your hand to squeeze it tightly. “Maybe he tried to get attention or something.”

“I want to talk to Johnny,” Sharon complains, pushing against the door. “Let me inside.”

“Listen, this is my house, and I don’t want you to enter it. If you want to talk to John, call him. I want you to leave my property or I’ll call the cops and you’ll get arrested,” you stand your ground. “But you shouldn’t waste your time, John doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How do you wanna know, bitch?” she just doesn’t get the message. Sharon throws insults at you, not caring you flinch when she called you fat and ugly.

“What the fuck, Sharon!” John growls. He slams the door in her face to check on you. “Doll, I want you to go to bed as planned. I’ll take care of Sharon. Don’t worry,” he pecks your hair softly,” she won’t come back.

“O-okay,” you nod, giving John a pained smile. “I’ll be waiting for you, John. Do you still want to watch that movie?”

“Sure thing, doll,” he smirks, eyes shamelessly roaming your body. “And later I’m gonna devour that sweet pussy of yours again…”

You giggle at his words, eyes no longer filled with tears. “Catch me if you can, Winchester.”

“Aw, my girl tries to play hard to get,” John growls. “Give me five to get rid of Sharon and I’ll rock your world…”

“No, you will let me speak first,” John says, raising one hand to stop Sharon. “Before you broke up with me for a boy half my age, I already knew we are over. We never matched but I stayed with you, too afraid to end up alone.”

“You need me, John,” Sharon purrs, batting her eyelashes. She pouts, hoping John will change his mind.

“I don’t know why you keep on coming back to me, Sharon. It was you ending our relationship. I’m going to tell you this one last time. WE. ARE. OVER. I don’t want you to ever come back here.”

“Is it because of that chick? She can’t give you what I can give you, Johnny,” she coos.

“True,” Sharon smirks, believing she got one step closer to her goal. “Y/N gives me so much more. A home. Warmth. Love. I love that girl,” John slams the door in Sharon’s face before she can say another word. “Now move your ass off her property before she calls the cops.”

“Damn me, you are killing this poor old man,” John pants. He runs one hand over your sweaty back, laughing when you lazily lift your head. “Dean was right, I should’ve let you ride me first thing when we got home.”

“Don’t tell him,” you laugh, patting John’s chest. “I liked it, though.”

“Sharon will never bug you again, doll. I made sure she got the message,” you smile to yourself. “I love you too, John.”

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he groans. “I’m not good at admitting feelings but it’s true, I love you, Y/N.”

“You’re cute when you admit your feelings, John Winchester. I’m glad it was you who moved into my house. You’re the best roommate ever…”

The End...

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